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DULCE DOMUM 



DULCE DO MUM 



lEssags on fi^ome ILiiz 



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By FREDERICK PERRY, m.a 

h 

VICAR OF ST. SAVIOUR'S, FITZROY SQUARE 



Home and country are the charms of life." 
OJkoq Kal 7rdrpi/, jSidrov %apiq. 

Greek Epigram. 




STRAHAN & CO. 
56, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON 

1873 

t 



7P43- 



LONDON 

PRINTED BY VIRTUE AND CO. 

CITY ROAD 



PREFACE. 



A book on Home ought not to be accounted homely, 
and on that account disparaged, for Home is a portion 
of the State, and the State is made up of Homes; and he 
who can influence families for good, is doing one of the 
greatest political services. 

At the present time Communism is reviving all over 
Europe, and, if it should prevail, Home would be one of 
the first things that would suffer. Few Communists have 
been so wise and good as Plato ; yet his theory was 
destructive of two things very dear to us — the Home and 
the Family. 

An attempt is made in this volume to introduce phy- 
siology as an interpreter of conduct and character. That 
this is a sound method no one can question, who 
observes how much the soul is influenced by the body, 
and also by other physical circumstances — such as wind, 
weather, and climate. The effect of this doctrine is to 
augment compassion and long-suffering, toleration and 
sympathy, which have long been among the wants of the 
world. 



VI PREFACE. 

All the questions here discussed are viewed in the 
light of a happy and intellectual religion ; not the sen- 
suous religion of the age, which appeals to eyes and 
ears and nostrils, and which is sure to issue in femi- 
nine superstition and masculine scepticism. Such a 
reaction, indeed, one of our foremost statesmen has re- 
cently predicted. 

There are many similes and metaphors in this book ; 
and although it is frankly admitted that analogies prove 
nothing, and that they are the parallel lines, which being 
produced ever so far never meet, yet images delight, 
instruct, and illustrate j and surely it was not for nothing 
that God made all things double. 

The Greek and Latin quotations are intended for 
scholars, and are therefore thrown into the foot-notes. 
They are the symbols of a classical freemasonry, which 
excite sympathy and procure welcome among educated 
men. In this busy and material age of ours, these echoes 
from ancient literature fall soothingly upon the ear. 

Those who are acquainted with a small volume of 
mine, entitled " Fragments of Christian Ethics," will not, 
I hope, be displeased to see some of those isolated 
thoughts here fitted into appropriate places. 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER 

I. Home and the Domestic Affections 




PAGE 

I 


II. Marriage 






16 


III. Husbands 






27 


IV. Wives 






39 


V. Parents : Fathers . 






53 


VI. Parents : Mothers . 






70 


VII. Children . . . . 






86 


VIII. Brothers and Sisters 






106 


IX. Masters and Mistresses . 






119 


X. Servants ..... 






132 


XI. Religion ..... 






H5 


XII. Economy ..... 






169 


XIII. Education ...... 






186 


XIV. Habit 






209 


XV. Health ..... 






220 


XVI. Temper , ■ 






235 



Vlll 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER 

XVII. Self-Denial 

XVIII. Courtesy . 
XIX. Conversation 

XX. Business or Profession 

I. Deliberation 
II. Industry 

III. Perseverance 

IV. Earnestness and Competition 
V. Success 

XXI. Adversity . 

XXII. Sundays 

XXIII. Amusements 

XXIV. Relations . 
XXV. Friendship . 

XXVI. Duties' of Neighbourhood 
XXVII. Society .... 
XXVIII. Leaving Home . 
XXIX. Old Age . 
XXX. The End .... 



PAGE 

254 

265 

275 

294 
296 
302 
312 
318 
328 

337 
359 
376 

393 
404 

424 
443 
462 

479 
491 



CHAPTER I. 

HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 

Dulce Domum — Home, sweet home ! What sound 
vibrates upon the heart more delightfully ? The word 
itself is beautiful, but who shall describe the reality? 

Our dearest memories cluster around home ; its potent 
charms extend from the cradle to the grave. They 
accompany the emigrant to the most distant lands, and 
hover around him on his dying bed.* Not only on the 
simple-hearted emigrant does it cast its spell, but on the 
hardened man of the world. Even Danton, half savage, 
half genius, during the short period before his execution, 
distractedly reverted to the innocence of his earlier years, 
and spoke incessantly of trees, flowers, and the country. f 

Young Englishmen in our colonies, who have been 
skilful diplomatists and great warriors, while doing their 
work manfully and fighting their battles bravely, have 
been powerfully stimulated by the spontaneous question, 
" What will be thought at home ?" J 

This feeling comes out in little and even in amusing 

* " dulces raoriens reminiscitur Argos." — ./En. x. 782. 

f Alison's "History of Europe," ii. p. ill. 
X e.g. Sir Alexander Burnes. 

/ * B 



2 DULCE DOMUM. 

ways. Thus the forests of Australia teemed with birds 
of a thousand different colours, and yet the Australian 
went to the trouble and expense of transporting from his 
old country the linnet, the chaffinch, and the sparrow.* 

It is the same affection which makes the convolvulus, 
the primrose, and the daisy more dear to us than the 
palm-tree of India, or the gum-tree of Australia, or the 
guava of Mexico. 

To cultivate the domestic affections leads to a full and 
wise enjoyment of our existence. This is one way to 
make the most of life — of that precious liquid, scanty in- 
deed and evaporating, of which we should not spill a 
single drop. For in this cultivation, as in all right con- 
duct, there will be found a threefold coincidence, which, 
ever and anon, imparts a thrill of delight — we shall feel 
that our duty and interest and pleasure coincide, and 
this makes life sweet indeed. 

Since the dearest memories cluster around home, we 
can make it a source of lasting influence, by making the 
youth of children full of joy, comfort, and affection. 
Home-life, with all its discipline and associations, will be 
the material for many a future meditation ; and the prin- 
ciples of those who are dead and gone will be respected 
and coveted, not only because of their intrinsic worth, 
but because they are tinged with the bright colours of 
earliest memory. Looking back, it seems to them as if — 

" The air of paradise did fan the house, 
And angels offic'd all."f 



* Lord Carnarvon in the Times, Oct. 5, 1868. 
t " All's Well," iii. 2. 



HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 3 

The testimony of one man is the experience of thou- 
sands : " Past life has left me honey in the hive of 
memory that I now feed on for present delight. When I 
recall the years of boyhood, youth, early manhood, I am 
filled with a sense of sweetness, and wonder that such 
little things can make a mortal so exceedingly rich." 

From seed sown in nurseries comes the plantation of 
the world ; and how deeply it is rooted there we may 
know when, in after-life, we try to eradicate the prejudices 
and superstitions which have been sown along with 
better seed. How difficult for one imbued in infancy 
with Judaical views of the Sabbath to make Sunday a 
right joyous as well as religious day ! How difficult for 
one trained in image worship to limit his devotions to 
the one God ! * 

Such a good man as Keble found it impossible to 
supplant old prejudice by new historical evidence regard- 
ing Charles I. " It might be so," he said, but " in truth 
belief in the heroes of his youth had become part of 
him."t 

Home joys are as superior to outside pleasures as 
wine is superior to alcohol. They are milder, healthier, 
more delicious, and less stimulating. Dr. Johnson 
declared that a tavern chair was the throne of human 
felicity ; but he abounded in paradoxes, and was not able 
from experience to estimate home-life at its just value. 

This remark will apply to all who, not having a happy 

* No one could put this more forcibly than Jean Paul Richter 
has done : " A circumnavigator of the world is less influenced by 
all the nations he has seen than by his nurse." — "Levana," xvi. 

t " Life of Keble," p. 567. 



4 DULCE DO MUM. 

home, seek for enjoyment out of doors. But there is a 
large class besides, who, having formed low and vicious 
tastes, come to regard domestic happiness as something 
insipid, and are eager for sensational pleasure. The 
gaiety and merriment of such scenes is apt to inject an 
occasional pang of envy into those who are more domes- 
ticated. But if you reflect, you will not envy their 
laughter nor covet their joys; for your sighs are better 
than their laughs, and your sorrow is better than their 
joy; since they pay a frightful price for sensational 
pleasure — paying away health, and substance, and peace 
of mind. 

This is not the assertion of the outsider, but the con- 
fession of the initiated, as it is expressed by the poet 
Burns : " In the hour of social mirth, my gaiety is the 
madness of an intoxicated criminal under the hands of 
the executioner." The Ettrick Shepherd had often 
heard the following story from the eye-witness who hap- 
pened to be present and unobserved. One night, after 
a debauch, Burns, not knowing that he was noticed, 
threw himself on his knees and began to pray. By 
degrees he became so fervent in his supplication for 
mercy and forgiveness for all his transgressions, that it 
was awful to hear him. With tears of agony, he con- 
fessed himself to be the chief of sinners. Lord Byron 
made a similar acknowledgment. 

It shows real poverty when one has to travel from 
home in quest of enjoyment. " A good man shall be 
satisfied from himself." He need not go miles away to 
fetch home the water of happiness. There is a spring in 
each man's dwelling, if he has the wit to find it out. 



HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 5 

Doubtless it was that each family might have a fair 
chance of happiness, that the Father of all families made 
his best gifts the most common. Bread, water, air, 
health, sleep, work, love, hope, life are at once the com- 
monest and the best. Simple and natural joys please 
the healthy mind as much as those that are more com- 
plex and artificial. The convolvulus peeping out in the 
hedgerows can delight the eye as much as a mass of 
rhododendrons on a cultivated lawn. 

How many even great and ambitious men have never 
learned the simple lesson of self-content, and how much 
unnecessary pain do they inflict on themselves by aspiring 
and struggling after the reserved seats" of Providence ! 
They give up repose and privacy for some public post, 
often losing the sweetness of private life, and living in an 
aquarium before the eyes of all men. This is one of the 
considerations which help to reconcile us to the ine- 
qualities of human conditions. Oftentimes we see life in 
a lower station far happier than the life of higher rank. 
It depends so much on what one can get out of it ; for, 
on this principle, sometimes a copper mine is more 
precious than a gold mine. 

It is the duty of a father of a family to make home as 
pleasant and attractive as possible, and indeed he should 
make this a study. A family should never subside into 
monotony. Neither young nor old can bear it. History 
supplies us with a forcible illustration of this fact. The 
French army on their march to Moscow found hardly 
any brooks, hardly any stones. There was no variety of 
trees. The mind was fatigued by never seeing any new 
objects, such as rocks, hills, and valleys. It was a 



6 DULCE DO MUM. 

monotony of nature. Now that home may not suffer in 
this way, let there be pictures, photographs, statues, if 
one can ; music, reading, singing, dancing ; especially 
let there be beautiful manners. It is not enough to have 
things convenient, let them be lovely. Many plants 
would have been equally useful, though unadorned with 
colour; but He, the Great Teacher, has beautified the 
useful. 

Birth-days may be made great sources of household 
joy. The gifts and kind wishes inspire the pleasant 
feeling of being remembered and loved. This celebra- 
tion might well be extended to other anniversaries, thus 
recalling to mind some great mercy, or preservation, * or 
any happy event, and making gratitude more lively and 
permanent. 

These commemorations foster many domestic virtues, 
and chiefly unity. All the members should be united in 
the inner circle, that they may be able to withstand the 
trials, difficulties, and attacks in the outer circle of the 
world. The union of the weak is marvellously powerful 
against the strong. Even the swallows united drive away 
the hawk. These are wise words which Milton puts into 
the mouth of Adam : — 

" Let us no more contend, nor blame 
Each, other, blamed enough elsewhere ; but strive 
In offices of love, how we may lighten 
Each other's burden, in our share of woe." f 



* "Non minus jucundi atque illustres sunt ii dies, quibus con- 
servamur, quam illi, quibus nascimur." — Cic. in Cat., iii. 2. 
f "Paradise Lost," b. x. 



HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 7 

Home should be well provided with amusements for 
the little ones, as their childhood was manifestly intended 
to be full of enjoyment, and they should be allowed to 
play freely and heartily. A wise parent will not check 
mirth in children, for suppressed spirits are as dangerous 
to character as suppressed perspiration is detrimental to 
health. It was a fine trait of the late Bishop Lonsdale 
that he would never allow the noise of children to be 
stopped, even close to his door. Still, while freely en- 
couraging children's play, we must bear in mind that even 
at this early age the process of education has begun, and 
the little motives and arguments of their games need to 
be watched and corrected. 

There are few sadder spectacles to be seen in a family 
than a precocious child, whether in intellect or religion. 
The premature utterances, which delight the parents, 
distress the experienced hearer. While guarding, how- 
ever, against this danger, the understanding and feelings 
'of the children should be cultivated, and fostered early, 
especially the religious affections, for they are sure to be 
discouraged at schools and colleges, and are often fos- 
silized in the hard world outside. The Baboo Keshub 
Chunder Sen said at his farewell soiree, that during his 
stay in this country he had visited many English families, 
and that he was much struck with the happiness of their 
homes, and that the little English children seemed to 
him like angels. 

This is one of the many instances of modern social 
improvement. If Juvenal's picture is not overdrawn, the 
Roman homes in his time were very inferior. " One 
house,''' says he, " is quite enough. Spend but a few days 



8 DULCE DOMUM. 

there, and when you come away call yourself, if you dare, 
a miserable man." * 

The religious element is at the foundation of happy 
homes, and it would ill become a Christian householder 
to be ashamed of family religion. In Roman houses, 
heathen though they were, there was a place in the inner 
part which was dedicated to the household gods, and in 
which their images were kept and worshipped, f 

The saintly Bishop Wilson, of the Isle of Man, on 
every favourable opportunity, would ask, " Have you 
set up an altar in your house ?" | How delightful is family 
worship, — to meet together, husband and wife, parents 
and children, guests and servants, to pray joyfully to 
God, to read his Word, and to solace ourselves with 
sweet psalms and hymns. This sends a fragrant aroma 
through the house the livelong day. Even the visitor 
feels it. // is the odour of the ointment that bewrayeth 
itself and cannot be hid. God sets his invisible mark 
upon such a house, and gives it an unmixed blessing. 

Few dwellings are so insulated as not to have conduit 
pipes, bringing in water and gas. Books, newspapers, 
tutors, governesses, servants, are all in their way conduit 
pipes. It is not enough to inquire as to the ability ; 
equally necessary it is to investigate the character of 
those who are to be with children. As regards news- 
papers, their great value is freely acknowledged. Their 
lessons being conversant with living characters, referring 
to present circumstances, and involving personal in- 

* Juv. Sat., xiii. 159. 

f Smith's "Diet, of Gr. and Rom. Antiq.," sub Lararium. 

J Life, by Archdeacon Hone, p. 317. 



HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 9 

terests, come home to our feelings more than the dignified 
examples of history. Yet along with these the abomina- 
tion of criminal trials is conveyed (would that it were 
not welcomed !) into Christian households. As to books, 
an ordinary private library embalms the sophistry of 
schoolmen, the spleen of controversialists, and the in- 
decencies of profligates. A similar perversity in Egypt 
preserved the mummies of the fox, the bear, and goat ; 
only those simple ancients cleared out the loathsome 
viscera with caustic fluids, and salted the remains. Cer- 
tainly the very least we can do in the work of purification 
is to take care that the libraries to which the young have 
free access should be weeded. The evil is not limited 
to reading. Vicious pictures and prints hurt the health 
of a man no less than the arsenical wall papers with 
which his room is hung. One ought to be vigilant as to 
all the influences that enter his home, for a large amount 
of evil is not indigenous but imported. The insect that 
destroyed all the peach-trees in St. Helena was imported 
from the Cape.* 

There are some friends so officious and intrusive that, 
under a plea of kindly interest, they interfere in families. 
Such interference ought to be discouraged, and the 
sanctity of private life vigilantly maintained. Some will 
make believe that they sympathize with an injured wife 
in order to elicit domestic secrets. But a prudent wife, 
though suffering, is a sexton, and buries her griefs in her 
heart. 

It would, indeed, be difficult to exaggerate the value 

* Kirby and Spence's "Entomology," p. 16. 



io DULCE DO MUM. 

of trust and confidence in domestic life. Most people 
of large experience know some case where a dishonour- 
ing suspicion has rankled in the breast. The poison has 
entered into the heart, and formed an incurable cancer 
there. Among the lower classes there is abuse ; and, 
coarse and blunt though it be, it relieves the mind : 
among the educated classes the sting of insinuation is 
keen, and lancinates acutely, though finer than a hair 
and almost invisible; but the wound is covered with 
reserve. 

One cause of distrust in families is over-strictness. 
Natural liberty is denied or restrained, hence evasions 
and deceits, which when discovered produce misgivings 
and dread. Children so brought up continue scheming 
and cunning in after-life. 

We are greatly indebted to Protestantism for the edu- 
cation of the people ; we are equally indebted to the 
Reformation for the happiness of our homes. There are 
no confessionals among us to extort from nervous 
mothers and daughters the secrets * of private life, and 
to inculcate domestic treachery under the name of 
religion. 

Sometimes those who are too poor and those who are 
too rich have no home. Disraeli describes a duke, who 
had many residences, and adds, " he had only one mis- 
fortune, and it was a great one; he had no home."| 
Royalty itself cannot guarantee this prime requisite. 
Philip King of Macedon had an unhappy home. He 



* " Inde timeri." — Juv. Sat., iii. 113. 
f " Lothair," i. 4. 



HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. n 

had jealousies with his wife and quarrels with his son ; 
in consequence of which wife and son left him and went 
to Illyricum. In their absence Demaratus came on a 
visit to the king ; and after the first civilities, Philip 
asked him, " What sort of agreement subsisted among 
the Greeks?" Demaratus answered, "There is, doubt- 
less, much propriety in your inquiring after the harmony 
of Greece, who have filled your own house with so much 
discord and disorder;" a reproof applicable to all, who 
are more interested in political than in domestic har- 
mony.* 

It is difficult to say which are most to be pitied, those 
who have unhappy homes, or those who have no homes 
at all. Certainly, from both classes multitudes come to 
recruit the army of crime ; and it may be a salutary 
reflection for those who neglect their home to bear in 
mind into what service their children will probably 
enlist. 

All does not depend on the head of the house. The 
domestic body has many members, and each member 
has its own office. Each, therefore, has power to aug- 
ment or to diminish the general happiness. It is most 
important to make this responsibility understood and 
felt ; for sometimes one member can make the whole 
family wretched and disgraced. They are obliged to 
leave him out of conversation, to leave him out of the 



* The greatest man must be hampered in his work and useful- 
ness by such a home. Hear what Schiller said of Goethe : " He 
produces very little now. His spirit is not sufficiently at ease ; his 
wretched domestic circumstances, which he is too weak to alter, 
make him so unhappy." — " Life of Goethe," by Lewes, ii. 357. 



12 DULCE DO MUM, 

family album ; but his distressing image is never erased 
from their memories and hearts. 

It must be admitted that some are too much centred 
on home, and forget the outside world and all the duties 
and responsibilities owing to their neighbour. This is 
only a refined selfishness, and constitutes here and there 
a clan in the midst of civilised society. These people 
deprive themselves of much enjoyment and miss the 
blessing of sympathy. Weep with them that weep ; for 
the tears of pity will sweeten your own cup of life, so 
that by enlarging the circle of feeling you will enlarge the 
circle of joy. Rejoice with them that do rejoice ; for thus 
you will increase your joy and not defraud your neigh- 
bour; for sympathy is a royal priest that tithes the joy of 
every one, yet makes it none the less. Otherwise those 
isolated clannish families have their reward. They break 
off from society, despise appearances, and subside into 
curious singularities, without influence, without respect ; 
and when they die, society feels no pang of severance, 
for there was no connecting ligament. 

Some fall into the very opposite mistake. They are 
delightful abroad and morose at home. They varnish 
their faces with amiability for the church or promenade, 
and rub off the varnish before they reach their own 
door-step again. Their agreeable qualities are mere 
social cosmetics. 

The domestic affections make a man strong and sym- 
pathetic among his fellows. This has been the weak 
point in the Roman priesthood. This has often made 
them hard-hearted and cruel. This has prevented them 
from understanding the progress of humanity, and from 



HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 13 

sympathizing with its struggles. The cruel and inve- 
terate factions and quarrels which the commissioners of 
Henry VIII. reported are very credible among men 
who, being confined together within the same walls, never 
can forget their mutual animosities, and who being cut off 
from all the most endearing connections of nature, are 
commonly cursed with hearts more selfish and tempers 
more unrelenting than fall to the share of other men.* 1 
This description corresponds very much to the interior of 
a workhouse at the present day. Gibbon's account is 
much to the same purpose. Speaking of primitive monks, 
he says, " Whenever they were permitted to step beyond 
the precincts of the monastery, two jealous companions 
were the mutual guards and spies of each other's actions ;f 
and after their return they were condemned to forget, or 
at least to suppress, whatever they had seen or heard 
in the world. Except in the presence of others, the 
monastic slave might not receive the visits of his friends 
or kindred, and it was deemed highly meritorious, if he 
afflicted a tender sister, or an aged parent, by obstinate 
refusal of a word or look. Prior, an Egyptian monk, 
allowed his sister to see him, but he shut his eyes during 
the whole visit. At their silent meals, they were en- 
veloped in their cowls, inaccessible and almost invisible 
to each other." J The parallel of Buddhism is complete ; 

* Hume's "Hist, of Eng.," ch. xxxi. 

f "It is curious to note how many customs this system has in 
common with heathenism. In Japan all officials serve in pairs, as 
spies upon each other." — Sir Rutherford Alcock's " Capital of the 
Tycoon," i. 64. 

% History of the " Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," ch. 



i 4 DULCE DO MUM. 

for under that system the mendicant monk is forbidden 
to look at or converse with a female : yea, if his mother 
have fallen into a river, and be drowning, he shall not 
give her his hand to help her out ; if there be a pole 
at hand, he may reach that to her ; but if not, she must 
drown.* 

Are those teachers actuated by a purely religious zeal 
who urge young females to forsake home and enter the 
cloister ? It may be so sometimes, but a convert from 
Romanism, whose keen eye had seen the inside of the 
machine, says, that an odious, gross, animal jealousy 
triumphs in the perpetual exclusion of an interesting girl 
from the world.! 

The same system has warred against domestic life and 
answered to the apostolic description "forbidding to 
marry." In the time of Queen Mary, a Welsh bishop, 
Ferrars, of St. David's, was burnt at Carmarthen for the 
crime, among others, of having a wife and whistling to 
his child, as he lay in the arms of his nurse ; and here as 
in many cases one can see the irony of history and the 
Nemesis of events ; for in the French Revolution some 
priests were compelled to marry against their will. J 

Most unenviable is the man who represses his domestic 
affections till he comes to be without love, without sym- 
pathy, without praise. Surely he suffers from atrophy 
of heart, and that organ must be wasting and dwindling 
away till he becomes heartless. 

Perhaps some may think this a homely subject, fit only 

* Wilson. 

t " Life of Blanco White," i. 120. 

X Alison's "Hist, of Europe," 8vo. ed., ii. 74. 



HOME AND THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS. 15 

for home-bred men, and they may sneer at the tame 
spectacle ; but no success or glory can compensate for 
the want of home. Some who have tasted the greatest 
varieties of life, and have had a right to speak with the 
authority of that experience, have declared as much. 
The noble Admiral Collingwood as he paced the deck 
of his victorious ship was sighing for home. The great 
Napoleon, after he had tasted of all the pleasure and 
greatness of the world, said that the chief happiness of 
his life had been with Josephine at home. 



CHAPTER II. 



MARRIAGE. 



A witness may be repulsive, and yet true. Of this 
character is the saying, "Marriage and hanging go by 
destiny." For the most part, a life-long union is brought 
about by a meeting, accidental, as the thoughtless say, 
providential, as the devout believe. The choice is seldom 
made by reason, which is the man himself, but by some 
sudden gust of feeling which carries him away ; and yet 
matrimony involves tremendous issues.* 

It has been noted that bad husbands have often very 
good wives,! and the contrary is true, that good men 
have often had bad wives. Milton's wife left him for 
four years, adding insult to desertion. Hooker was 
called from his studies, or his friends, to mind the sheep 
or to rock the cradle ; which gives his quaint biographer 



* If the marriage is unhappy, then 

tcl t evdov tlai rd rt Ovpafy hvarv\UQ. — Orest., 604. 

t Lord Bacon's Essays: "Of Marriage and Single Life." In Hero- 
dotus (viii. 68) there is an interesting address sent by Artemisia to 
Xerxes, in which we find the germ of Bacon's remark. She says : 
" O king, consider this, that the good among men commonly have 
bad slaves, and the bad ones, good." 



MARRIAGE. 17 

cause to wonder why the blessing of a good wife " was 
denied to patient Job, to meek Moses, and to our as 
meek and patient Mr. Hooker." * But there is really 
little cause to wonder in these two cases, for the great 
theologian married Joan, his landlady's daughter, and 
the great poet married a frivolous girl. There was no 
fitness in the choice of either. 

The passion of love is notoriously injudicious ; it over- 
looks considerations of propriety, and suitableness, and 
equality. As Cervantes says, " Love levels all." It 
levels down King Cophetua, and it levels up the beggar- 
maid ; but seldom does such a matrimonial plane con- 
tinue smooth and horizontal. There is often after an 
upheaving and a subsidence arising from difference of 
education, difference of habit, and general unfitness. 
Those who intend to marry might, according to the 
suggestion of Pittacus, take a lesson from boys at play, 
and choose a match ; " Sumefiarem" \ 

There are weighty physical reasons for not marrying too 
early or too late. Premature marriages are dangerous for 
the children, late marriages are dangerous for the mother. 
In modern Egypt marriage frequently takes place when the 
bride is twelve or only ten. \ The Talmudists forbade 
marriage in the case of a man under thirteen years and a 
day, and in the case of a woman under twelve years and 
a day. In the hope of a robust progeny, Lycurgus had 
delayed the season of marriage. It was fixed by Numa 

* Izaak Walton's " Life." 

t 'Qq to KTjSevaai KaQ' kavrbv dpiGTevei fiaKp^. — -ZEsch., Prom. 
Vine, 890. 

1 Smith's " Dictionary of the Bible," art. Marriage. 

C 



18 DULCE DOMUM. 

at the tender age of twelve years, that the Roman husband 
might educate to his will a pure and obedient virgin.* 

These arrangements are cited chiefly as curiosities of 
Eastern custom. We of western Europe have a different 
climate and different physical conditions ; and as a result 
of these differences, we have a deferred and a prolonged 
maturity. Those who abstain from marrying till their 
constitution is fully developed, and yet do not procras- 
tinate till the bloom of youth is gone, will find that they 
are within the limits prescribed by nature. This view is 
confirmed by considerations of prudence. With respect 
to the succession of children, there ought not to be too 
great an interval of time between them and their parents ; 
for, when there is, the parent can receive no benefit from 
his child's affection, or the child any advantage from his 
father's protection. Neither should the difference in 
years be too little, as great inconveniences may arise 
from it; for proper reverence is not shown to such 
parents by a boy who considers his father as nearly 
his equal in age, and disputes are wont to arise in the 
management of the family.! 

The Easterns, by their seclusiveness, lose all the re- 
fining influence of courtship. Well has Tennyson ex- 
pressed how there is — 

" no more subtle master under heaven 

Than is the maiden passion for a maid, 
Not only to keep down the base in man, 
But teach high thought and amiable words, 
And courtliness, and the desire of fame, 



* Gibbon's "Decline and Fall," ch. xliv. 

f Arist. Polit, vii. 16. % " Idylls of the King," Guinevere. 



MARRIAGE. 



19 



There is something also so honouring to the bride in 
being wooed rather than being bargained for in the 
Oriental, or even in the European fashion. Very de- 
grading indeed is the account given * of a market for 
Babylonian women ; — where the beautiful brides were 
sold at a high price, and husbands were bought for the 
plain women with the money ; where beauty was bought, 
and homeliness paid a premium. We manage more 
privately, but are we quite free from a more refined 
buying and selling ? 

The passionate lover is in danger of idolatry, and 
oftentimes he turns his heart into a pagoda instead of a 
temple, and makes it the abode of an idol instead of a 
God. This devoteeism fills him with exaggerated ex- 
pectations, and when he finds they are not realised, his 
idolatry is apt to change into hatred or contempt. 
Then at last, if not before, he finds that love is a foun- 
tain, which sends forth bitter water as well as sweet ; 
that love is very abundant in gall as well as honey ; and 
that, if an adored woman can impart rapturous joy, she 
can also inflict the acutest pain on her worshipper. This 
is one of the compensations of Providence — one of the 
taxes on human enjoyment — one of the penalties of 
idolatry. 

If a woman generally has not the option to choose, 
she has the privilege to refuse. Now, that she may be 
able to' exercise this discretion, let her know that often 
love is only a pretext to the ill-regulated minds of men.t 

* Herod., i. 196. 

t 'AfcoXaoroig tpv^alg av9pcjiru)v £<70' 6 epwg 7rpo0acrif. — Greek 
Anthology, Eton Selection, xxxviii. 



20 DULCE DO MUM. 

A profession of love is so pleasing to oneself that our 
vanity betrays us. But the profession is easy, and may 
not be sincere. Wherever a woman has. beauty, or 
money, or rank, she should scrutinise professions, which 
may aim at her endowments rather than herself. 

The disappointment is indeed bitter when a loving 
girl finds out after marriage that she has been won not 
for herself, but for her belongings. An unprincipled 
man is not at the pains to wear as a husband the smiling 
mask he wore as a lover. Who would not pity even the 
bitter persecutor Queen Mary, pining under her husband's 
neglect ? The less return her love met with, the more it 
increased. She passed most of her time in solitude, 
either shedding tears or writing letters to her husband 
Philip, who seldom returned any answer. Then she would 
find relief in venting her anger upon the Protestants. 

The criteria by which lovers judge are different in 
different minds. Health, sense, goodness, are the qualities 
which attract the wise. Riches, beauty, wit, are the 
qualities which attract the worldly. Pious men will 
make religion the prime requisite ; and, indeed, this 
element cannot be safely overlooked by any; for where 
there are antagonistic religions there will be a want of 
concord, and where there is no religion there will be a 
weakness of principle. Unions, formed without judg- 
ment and under the glow of impulse, resemble pieces of 
cloth that do not match, sewn together by gaslight. 
The morrow's sun shows their incongruity. 

Externals are often, for a time at least, highly valued. 
A good figure, a winning smile, a sweet voice, have often 
gained an audience, a position, and a fortune. Even 



MARRIAGE. 21 

dress has been a power ; but people given to this adorn- 
ment do not generally display wisdom in words or deeds. 
The notes of gaudy birds, as if to teach a lesson to the 
foppish, are grating to the ear. They who marry on 
account of externals will soon have to bewail the absence 
of more substantial qualities. Sometimes we see even a 
really good man have an infatuation for some unworthy 
object. It is amazing, but it renders the statement very 
credible, that men have worshipped apes in Japan, in 
India, and in Africa. 

Against the popular criteria these considerations may 
be urged and ought to be weighed. Beauty tortures by 
jealousy, and the fearful husband fancies that others 
envy his enviable treasure. When a man has married a 
woman, being the lover of her face, and not of her soul,* 
it will be fortunate for him if she gives him no cause for 
jealousy; but he must expect to find many repulsions 
warring against the one attraction, and will probably ex- 
press his loving vexation in the old formula, " I cannot 
live with thee, and I cannot live without thee." One 
marries for beauty ; but in distress he needs comfort, in 
difficulty he needs counsel, and in the whole course of 
his life he needs wisdom. Now beauty is a poor substi- 
tute for comfort, counsel, and wisdom. 

After the first experience the superficial attractions 

vanish, and the fondness that was generated by them 

vanishes likewise : — ■ 

" He that loves a rosy cheek, 
Or a coral lip admires, 

* One wittily calls such marriages fractional — the man marries 
only a part of the woman. 



22 DULCE DOMUM. 

Or from starlike eyes doth seek 

Fuel to maintain his fires ; 
As old Time makes these decay, 

So his flames must melt away." * 

That great philosopher,! who seems to have observed 
everything and to have observed everything accurately, 
says heiresses govern ; and certainly modern life verifies 
the ancient remark. Wherever women bring wealth or 
rank to their husbands, they seem to expect deference 
and submission. She knows and feels that the money 
is hers, and that the rank is hers. 

Religion, in a woman especially, ought to be amiable : it 
ought to be such as shall win, and not repel ; holy, and yet 
human; heavenly, but not too sublime for the common 
places of earth. The religion of some is so narrow-minded, 
rigid, and scrupulous, as to render not unnecessary the 
caution in Scripture against being over-righteous. These 
persons are full of religion and devotion ; but it is mixed 
with scruple and superstition, and it frowns upon many 
of the innocent enjoyments of life. Such were those 
New England Puritans who held it sinful for a mother 
to kiss her children on the Sabbath. J The thunders of 
fanaticism have curdled their religion. 

Wordsworth has beautifully expressed the more human 
character of woman : — 

" A creature not too bright or good 
For human nature's daily food ; 
For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles." 



* Thomas Carew. t Arist. Eth., viii. 10, 7. 

% The Times, January 28, 1870. 



MARRIAGE. 23 

Those who are married ought to study hard that they 
may play harmoniously the great duet of life. They 
must not fancy life to be a solo, where the one has all 
the duties, and the other all the privileges. They must 
avoid all discords, all remarks that are out of time as 
well as out of tune. Then will their life be full of the 
sweet music of domestic joy. 

Marriage, in the solemn words of Shakspeare, is " a- 
world-without-end bargain." Once entered upon, there 
is no room for fickleness. The tide of affectionate feel- 
ing should never be encouraged to ebb. The more 
civilised and religious men are, the more durable are 
their marriages, while among barbarians separations are 
frequent and capricious. The Sea-Dyaks marry at an 
early age, and separate frequently before they find a 
partner to please them under the plea of bad dreams or 
birds.' 1 " 

The indications of nature are very instructive, and 
should be studied by those who seek to find out the 
higher laws in the world. Thus the fidelity of birds in 
their natural condition is very great, and the punishments 
of infidelity very striking. Bishop Stanley says : " We 
suspect that constancy and fidelity exist to a greater 
degree among birds than we are aware of; whatever 
testimony can be collected on the subject certainly tends 
to prove it."t And he thinks that the mysterious meet- 
ings of birds, where often one is left for dead, are trials 
of the unfaithful. Those who are fickle wish for change 
and would fain separate ; but such inconstancy would 

* Brooke's " Sarawak," p. 69. f " History of Birds," ch. xv. 



24 DULCE DOMUM. 

not even then be satisfied, but would soon be disap- 
pointed and longing for change again. If they had the 
power, and, like Napoleon, could cast off Josephine 
for a royal princess, like him also they would probably 
feel that the exchange was a disappointment and a delu- 
sion. 

Marriage will always be degraded while woman is 
degraded. It was to the shame of the Roman law that, 
a woman was defined as a thing, and might be claimed 
like other movables, by the use and possession of an 
entire year. The husband might chastise her, might kill 
her if she was intoxicated. The world is growing better, 
and one of the proofs of it is the greater honour and 
reverence shown to woman. This also is for the advan- 
tage of man. They who degrade holy things, thereby 
degrade themselves. They who degrade marriage into 
a yoke, degrade themselves into a team. 

Neither husband nor wife is responsible for the relatives 
on either side, and it was a part of barbarous legislation, 
whether in ancient or modern times, to involve a man's 
relations in his punishment.* In the time of Charles I., 
it was thought a sufficient reason for disqualifying any 
one from holding an office, that his wife or relations 
were Romanists, though he himself was a Protestant. 

But though we are not responsible for our relations, 
nor they for us, it forms an important element in married 



* And yet compare 2 Kings viii. 18, where it is explained why 
Jehoram walked in the way of Ahab ; for the daughter of Ahab 
was his wife. It was certainly an unhappy selection ; and, if there 
is any responsibility on account of relations, it lies in the first 
choice. 



MARRIAGE. 25 

life to treat them well. Secret antipathies towards them 
are eating ulcers ; and, if neglected, they poison any 
blood relationship. It was so when Henry VII. married 
the daughter of the hated house of York. His dislikes 
and suspicions, permitted to grow, bred disgust towards 
his queen, and poisoned all his domestic enjoyments. 
Yet she herself was virtuous, amiable, and complaisant 
in a high degree.* 

The married state is the most natural and the most 
happy. It gives far greater scope and development to 
the social and religious life than celibacy can ever do. 
Nunneries have not been without great scandal, Roman 
Catholics themselves being witnesses. Nor is this to be 
wondered at, for every such institution is in defiance of 
the indications of nature, and in opposition to the direc- 
tions of God. 

It would be unworthy to speak here at length of those 
who seek the enjoyment of love without its domestic 
obligations and duties. Their own disappointments, and 
disgusts, and punishments, are ever proclaiming to them 
that unlawful loves are like star-fish, that break up in the 
captor's hands; or, if they last, they are a permanent 
shame and sorrow; and, so far from being natural, are 
the most unnatural things in the world. How contrary 
to nature that a daughter should not know her mother, 
and that a mother might not make herself known to her 
daughter ; and yet this was the case with the Duchess of 
Sforza, the illegitimate child of a domestic by Lord 
Tamworth. The mother was once permitted to walk 

* Hume's "History of England," ch. xxiv. 



26 DULCE DO MUM. 

round the room in which her daughter was sitting, but 
with the proviso that she should not address her, or in 
any way discover herself.* Could anything be more 
unnatural than such a sight ? 

Nature has made men and women actually and 
potentially different. t Her sphere is home, and there 
she shines. A woman who assumes man's duties is 
masculine, and not likely to make the best wife ; or to 
retain her husband's love, or to mould the character of 
children with a sweet and humanizing influence. The 
beloved wife is not known abroad as a manager, a 
speaker, or a legislator. She is satisfied with being 
known and prized at home. The famous words of 
Pericles were not true merely of Greece or of his own 
times, but they are true of all nations, and will be ever- 
more : — " Great is the glory of the woman, who is least 
talked of among the men, either for good or evil." \ 



* Burke's "Anecdotes of the Aristocracy," i. 71. 

f Their natures are" widely different, and therefore their work 
is different. — Plato, Rep., v. 4 : HXuotov Ksx^piTfisvrjv <pvaiv. 

X MeyaXij r) d6£a /cat tjq cLv sit kX&xioTov dpeTtjg itkpi r\ ipoyov 
lv toiq dpaeoi kXsoq y. — Thucyd., ii. 45. 



. CHAPTER III. 

HUSBANDS. 

The word husband has been supposed to be derived 
from the Anglo-Saxon, and to mean a house-band. This 
etymology is at least very instructive ; for generally it is 
in the power of a husband to bind and consolidate, or to 
dissolve and destroy his household. 

One of the best safeguards of a husband is a fondness 
for home ; and though a man may be too fond of home 
to be a good citizen, yet there is not much danger in 
encouraging this simple taste, for few men are like 
Nicolaus, accused of too much attention to their wives.* 

There is no truer word than that of Scripture : " He 
that loveth his wife loveth himself." He that cherishes 
his wife with reverent love, with thoughtful tenderness, 
and with sweet surprises of affection, is doing, whether 
consciously or unconsciously, that which will benefit 
himself unspeakably, will make his presence welcome 
and longed for,t will procure loving interest for himself, 
and secure an unwearied vigilance in his behalf. 



* Mosheim, "Eccles. Hist.," i. 2, 5. 

f Lady Duff Gordon, in her " Letters from Egypt," says that the 



28 DULCE DOMUM. 

How often and how speedily after marriage comes a 
deterioration — which is more manifest among the poor, 
who have not such means of concealment, nor such 
necessity for disguise. Perhaps there is little skill in the 
wife to make the fireside attractive, and the man finds 
domestic happiness tame. Then he becomes indifferent, 
careless, selfish, it may be cruel — 

" First a kneeling slave and then a tyrant." * 
He has forgotten that the loving creature, whom he has 
married, is a trust; or it may be he has never recognised 
the fact. A clergyman tells us that when his newly 
married wife was driving away from her home in the 
carriage, she turned to him, and with eyes suffused with 
tears, said, "Well, now I am trusted entirely with you !" t 
What generous husband could ever forget that tender 
appeal ? 

Doubtless the deterioration, which so often follows 
marriage, arises partly from the low views prevalent in 
society. People enter into life-union for the sake of 
comfort and convenience, instead of regarding it as a 
great help to personal improvement and general useful- 
ness. It also results from a want of self-restraint. 
Satiety is the bane of married life, as Henry VIII. and 
others like him have declared by their acts and deeds. 
No doubt it was owing to this abuse that that singular 

natives expressed this feeling by the unsophisticated phrase : "We 
have tasted your absence and found it bitter." 

" Be useful where thou livest, that they may 
Both want, and wish thy pleasing presence still." 

— George Herbert. 

* Thomson. t " Life of the Rev. H. V. Elliott," p. 141. 



HUSBANDS. 29 

institution, the Court of Love, gave a solemn decision by 
the mouth of Queen Eleanor, that " Love cannot exist 
between husband and wife." Such a declaration showed 
that their state was ill-conditioned, and that their blessings 
had been blighted in the using. 

On the husband, as being the higher power, lies the 
chief responsibility for securing domestic happiness. 
This will not be attained by selfish requirements from 
others. On the contrary, the husband must use con- 
sideration and self-denial, and expend time and money 
for this purpose. The little birds that line their nest 
with the down plucked from their own breasts teach a 
lesson to higher intelligences. 

There is no virtue in violating the relations of life, as 
when a husband abdicates his authority and lets his wife 
rule \ or a mother allows herself to be governed by a 
daughter • or when one child is the fag of the other ; 
or when a mistress does a servant's work. These aber- 
rations, though made with good-nature and affection, do 
not turn out well at last; but produce contempt and 
impertinence and rudeness. 

Every father of a family is a governor and his rule a 
government, and when we think how much wisdom is 
needed to govern, it is not to be wondered at if many 
husbands are found wanting. Power is a great test * of a 
man, and often the very limited authority of a household 
intoxicates a husband, and he revels in its exercise un- 
conscious that he is producing only misery. As the 

* "O 8k doKsl fidXiUTa Kal Xsyerai rpoirov avfipoq eTrideiKvvvai 
Kal PavaviZuv, l^ovaia /cat ap%?}. — Plut., Comp. Demos, cum 
Cic, iii. 



So DULCE DO MUM. 

maniac, who smashes all his furniture and then sits down 
amidst the wreck, so the unnatural husband, who has 
broken his wife's heart and crushed the spirits of his 
children, has a home as dull and wretched as his worst 
enemy could wish. " He that troubleth his own house 
shall inherit the wind." In the lull that succeeds the 
tempest, his eye involuntarily turns towards the wreck, 
and he sees all reduced to wretchedness. Then he com- 
plains of a cheerless home, and makes an unreasonable 
demand for joy from a broken-hearted wife. Yet what 
can be more unreasonable than to require mirth in her 
heaviness! Not seldom also it happens that in these 
family quarrels the aggrieved party is the first to apolo- 
gize and renew friendship. This may flatter the pride 
of the aggressor, but it increases his guilt. And though 
the patient sufferer conceals her wrongs, yet God pub- 
lishes how the domestic tyrant behaves at home in the 
blanched face * of the wife and the crushed demeanour of 
the children. 

A husband may be firm without being cross, or severe, 
or tyrannical. All authority may be clothed in gentle- 
ness; as the hard kernel is embedded in the soft and 
tender fruit. Sometimes he must give way, and he must 
do it gracefully. How weak is that obstinacy which 
clings to its own bye-laws, and would rather violate the 
domestic affections than relax a doubtful rule ! Genuine 
firmness has joints as well as bones. When a man 
makes a set of rules for himself and family, and clings 



Read you not the wrong you're doing 
In my cheek's pale hue ?" — T. Campbell. 



HUSBANDS. 31 

to them in season and out of season, he degenerates into 
obstinacy ; and this habit disqualifies him from guiding 
even a household — an immovable helm would not be 
more useless to a ship. But though he steers on his 
course inflexibly at home, he is a laughing-stock abroad ; 
for the rudder without hinges is fairly ludicrous. 

He who governs wisely and unpretentiously, will have 
a real influence in his household ; he will be able to 
arrest faulty habits and to restore good usages ; he will 
be able even to raise the religious tone of the family, 
which has always a tendency to become flat ; but it is, 
above all things, necessary that a husband should make 
himself the central point in his circle of reformation. All 
his efforts should radiate from himself reformed to others 
unreformed. Nothing will atone for the want of personal 
example. It was a noble resolution of one of old — " I 
will walk in my house with a perfect heart"* Where 
profession is insincere, even a little child striking upon 
it accidentally, will disclose that it is hollow as a drum. 
The wife has discovered it long before ; but for fear or 
affection has never revealed the secret, unless perchance 
it has been extorted from her. In the last hours of 
Alexius Comnenus, when he was pressed by his wife 
Irene to alter the succession, he raised his head and 
breathed a pious ejaculation on the vanity of this world. 
The indignant reply of the Empress should be a warning 
to all who are insincere ; " You die, as you have lived, a 
hypocrite." 

Juvenal f scarifies the Roman paterfamilias, more 

* Ps. ci. 2. f Satires, xiv. 64. 



32 DULCE DO MUM. 

attentive to appearance than to reality. "You are," 
says he, "afraid lest your hall should be foul, or your 
portico dirty, when a friend comes to visit Vou, and yet 
one little slave could clean it all with half a bushel of 
saw-dust ; but you do not exert yourself that your son 
should see your house pure and free from spot and vice." 
A man of thorough self-respect will be more anxious 
about a pure and upright character than about a clean 
and well-furnished house. Some one has said, " Revere 
thyself." If you do not, others will not. The great seal 
of England will not win reverence, where there is no 
self-respect. 

A man cannot respect himself unless he is conscious 
of his own integrity. No hypocrite, living with a mask 
on, however much he may admire his own cunning, can 
respect his own character. Home is the very place, of 
all others, where he obtains least esteem. Abroad he 
has the loathsome polish of insincerity, at home it is 
washed off; abroad he is great and admirable, at home 
he is little and contemptible ; abroad he professes grand 
reasons, at home he betrays petty motives ; abroad he 
guards himself with conventional formulas, at home he 
gives way to native rudeness.* 

The husband must have forbearance, and in this way 
as well as any other will he show honour unto the wife 
as unto the weaker vessel : weaker and more delicat e 
in the bodily organization, more nervous and more sus- 
ceptible of external influence from the weather, from 

* Cicero gives a sketch of the genuine man: "Nee vero ille in 
luce modo atque in oculis civium magnus, sed intus domique praes - 
tantior." — De Senectute, iv. 



HUSBANDS. 33 

illness, from little things. Not necessarily weaker in 
intellect or less constant in affection, for in these respects 
women are often manifestly superior to men. But their 
constitutional peculiarities sometimes render them " un- 
certain, coy, and hard to please." * 

The husband must not be intolerant of a little whole- 
some jealousy. For that passion, so much denounced, 
is yet the token of true love, and its absence in a wife, 
on fit occasions, would be regarded suspiciously by a 
shrewd observer. Of course there are extreme cases 
where jealousy is morbid, and is indeed a monster begot 
upon itself. \ But if a husband gives any just cause, he 
must not be angry if his wife makes any just complaint ; 
rather he must try to imagine how terrible is the pain of 
this passion, and to remember that jealousy is the injured 
lover's hell.% Not for nothing has the wise God placed 
this unpopular feeling among the domestic affections. 
If we had wished to set a watch over the purity of home, 
what sentinel could we have placed equal to jealousy ? § 

Courage is a necessary element in a good husband. 
He has to provide not only for himself, but for his wife 
and children, and others perhaps whom he holds dear. 
This care rouses his courage and increases his power to 
discharge the duties of life.|| Commercial depression, 

* " Varium et mutabile semper 

Femina." — .ZEn. iv. 569. 
The poets especially, when disappointed, have been rather hard 
upon women. 

f Othello, iii. 4. J Milton. 

§ On the other hand, the husband may be jealous. Moliere was 
very ingenious in self-torture of this kind. — "Moliere- Characters," 
by C. Cowden Clarke, p. 77. 
j| Cicero, De Ofnciis, i. 4. 

D 



34 DULCE DOMUM. 

losses, want of success, disappointments, scruples, bring 
disquietude and despondency. Then one is discontented, 
and nothing seems right ; but let him bear in mind for 
such an occasion, that things are right nevertheless. It 
is dangerous to make resolutions when in such a de- 
pressed state of mind. In all cases of transient illness, 
or melancholy, take no decided step till the fit is over. 
Do not resign an important position at the suggestion of 
the bile. 

A husband has often been saved from a rash step by 
listening to his wife. Women have an instinctive saga- 
city; wives have in addition a genuine good-will: two 
most important qualities in an adviser. He was a brutal 
as well as an unwise king* who repulsed the affectionate 
remonstrance of his wife with the harsh words, "Madam, 
we took you to give us children, and not to give us advice." 

The husband on going out in the morning, to work and 
business, should leave no sad remembrance behind him. 
An unkind word, a heartless sneer, a contemptuous look : 
all these cut and wound. The husband goes out into 
the world, and in its bustle forgets these little things ; 
but the wife at home broods over them with an unsafe 
mtensity.f 

Nor ought a man to return home as if to a lodging, 
where everything is studied for his comfort, and the wife 
subsides partly into an upper servant and partly into a 
lt domestic associate." There is a degradation in that 
treatment, however well it may be disguised. 

* The father of Charles XII. 

f " Vulnus alit venis." — ^Eneid, iv. 2. Oftentimes virus would 
be a more suitable word. 



HUSBANDS, 35 

That is the black day of wedded life when the hus- 
band begins to seek his pleasures outside, and spends on 
himself out of doors the money and affections which 
ought to be spent at home on wife and children f pro- 
digal of smiles and endearments to others, while his own 
family starve for a merry look. Is it not a shame that 
after a man has extracted all the sweetness of a woman's 
youth and beauty he should ungratefully discard her as 
a piece of emptied honeycomb ? 

Be well assured that man is not to be envied : so 
many loves, so many miseries. He comes home carry- 
ing feelings of wretchedness ; and it is right, for the 
wisdom of Providence might have been arraigned if 
plural love had not been embittered. As if in spite, 
these unfeeling wretches sometimes boast of their infidel- 
ities ; but while they purpose to inflict annoyance, they 
cover themselves with shame. Fortunate are they if 
they do not teach an evil lesson against themselves, and 
excite a desire for revenge. As a perfect contrast to this 
character, one might instance the constancy and faith- 
fulness of Charles I. Between his sentence and execu- 
tion, he sent a message to his queen to tell her that, 
during the whole course of his life, he had never once, 



* 'A^i/cta di dvdpoQ a\ 9vpa%e avvovaiai yivofitvai. — Arist., 
CEcon., i. 4. Home suffers from such absences, and a universal 
experience responds to the northern song : — 

" There is na luck about the house 
When our gude man's awa\" 

A linnet in its cage forgotten by its keeper, and drooping for want 
of food ; a wife in her home, neglected and pining for want of love : 
these things are parallel. 



36 DULCE DOMUM. 

even in thought, failed in his fidelity towards her ; and 
that his conjugal tenderness and his life should have an 
equal duration. 

Some kill by neglect and unkindness. They use no 
physical force, and leave no outward marks of violence. 
They imitate the sportsman who uses sand for shooting 
small birds, which it is intended to kill without injuring 
their plumage ; and it would be well for such husbands 
if they were placed under some salutary restraints, such 
as affect a certain class in Russia. There, a priest can 
never marry a second time, so that a priest's wife is as 
much cherished as any other good thing that cannot be 
replaced.* 

It is a sign of true love in a husband if he makes, or 
strives to make, a provision for his wife. Homer, that 
great painter of human nature in all its simplicity and 
truth, represents Hector foreboding the degradation of 
his wife ; he fears that she will be at the command of 
another, and that hard necessity will oppress her.t 
Every good husband will have the same solicitudes, and 
will earnestly provide alleviations for the trials of widow- 
hood. 

Another proof of true love is courageous devotion to a 
wife in illness. Grand was William of Orange on the 
field of battle, but grander in the sick room. His queen 
was sinking under small-pox of the most malignant type. 
All this time William remained night and day near her 



* Lady Eastlake's "Letters from the Baltic," i. 84. 
f IIoXX' dtKa^ofievr], Kpartprj d' iiriKuaiT' avayRr}. — Iliad, vi. 
458. 



HUSBANDS. 37 

bedside. The little couch on which he slept when he 
was in camp was spread for him in the ante-chamber, but 
he scarcely lay on it. The sight of his misery was enough 
to melt the hardest heart.* 

At confirmation young persons are called upon to 
renew promises which they have never made. In 
marriage thousands never again think on vows which 
they have made and remade, and repeated a thousand 
times. Yet it might be very profitable now and then to 
call to mind some of the loving promises made in court- 
ship, and to take care that a wife should have no great 
cause for disappointment in the enormous disproportion 
between profession and practice. You know not how 
death may part you. Perhaps you may be the survivor, 
and as you lovingly put the ring on the finger,, so you 
mournfully may put the immortelle on the coffin ; but it 
will be an exquisite comfort to you on that sad day if 
your heart does not condemn you, and if you feel that 
you have treated the departed one lovingly and reverently; 
that you have not taken too much of the enjoyments and 
given her too much of the burdens of life. 

It is impossible to explain all the secret blessings 
which come upon the husband who has kept his promises 
to his wife, and has " loved her, comforted her, honoured 
and kept her in sickness and in health." He himself 
shall know how highest duties bring highest pleasures. 
This is a truth which dawns upon us gradually, for God 
does not foretell all the advantages of righteousness ; he 
leaves many of them to be discovered by experience. 

* Macaulay's " History," vii. 157. 



38 DULCE DO MUM. 

The husband who strives to rule his house wisely, and to 
treat his wife lovingly, will have abundance of enjoyment, 
while he who neglects home, and alienates his affections, 
will be full of regret, and deprive himself of many bless- 
ings. It is as true of families as it is of nations : " All 
states among whom the regulations regarding women are 
bad (as among the Lacedemonians), enjoy scarcely the 
half of happiness." * 

* Arist. Rhet., i. 5, 6. 



CHAPTER IV. 

WIVES. 

God has set in families, as in the heavens, two lights, 
the one to shine in the absence of the other ; and though 
the position of the one is inferior, yet it is an inferiority 
graced with honour and excellence. 
, The man is formed for hardness, for valour, for work; 
the woman for tenderness, for meekness, for endurance. 
The excellence of the one is not the excellence of the 
other, nor do the qualities of the one become the other. 
Energy is the glory of the man ; woman's best ornament 
is a meek and quiet spirit ; and in a domestic point of 
view this is far more precious than gold, or pearls and 
precious stones. 

A woman must be cautious in bestowing her affections 
in marriage, because afterwards she must make the best 
of her choice, whether those affections have been given 
to an excellent or a worthless man. The vine tendrils 
must cling as they are fixed, to the capital of a marble 
column, or to the sign-post of an inn.* 

It is a lamentable mistake when a woman looks on 

* " Les Miserables," p. 316. 



40 DULCE DO MUM. 

marriage as a prize won and done, and fancies that there 
is no more need for attractiveness, and is careless 
whether she offends or disgusts ; for marriage so 
regarded is sure to end in disappointment. A woman 
is attractive to win a husband ; she must be attractive to 
keep him, to retain his love, and respect, and reverence ; 
and perhaps it is not too much to say, as has indeed 
been said by some who were most happy, that married 
life is a perpetual courtship. Nature teaches wives a 
lesson in this respect from the insect world : the glow- 
worm all through life attracts her partner by her phos- 
phoric light. 

A man may laugh at the sallies, and, for a time, be 
amused with the indecorums of a girl of the period ; but 
a husband is alienated by coarseness and indelicacy, and 
would dread them above all things in a wife. In the 
mind of Napoleon towards Josephine reverence survived 
love, because the deposed empress had never, in all 
her married life, violated the decorum of private life. 
On the other hand, Queen Isabella of Spain fled from 
her throne, despised and unpitied, because she had not 
only been indelicate but indecent. Sweet, compliant 
manners * delight a husband, and the goodness of a wife 
keeps alive the soul of goodness in a husband ; but, 
where the wife is bad, confidence even in goodness 
itself is disturbed, and the man grows worse and worse.! 

The cultivation of an attractive demeanour tends to 



* " Morigerisque modis." — Lucret., iv. 1281. 
t Et/c6ra>£, KaKTJg yvvaucog dvdpa yiyi'tcrOai kcikov. — Eurip. 
Orestes, 737. 



WIVES. 41 

draw, a careless and unbecoming behaviour repels ; and 
in repelling disunites. Now, as unity of feeling is the 
best marriage blessing,* there should be an habitual effort 
on both sides to preserve it intact. Ecclesiastical schisms 
have sometimes been blessings, but domestic schisms 
must always be curses. 

The true orbit of a wife is home. St. Paul, although 
unmarried, was right in his direction to wives, that they 
should be keepers at home.f The Greeks with admir- 
able insight and fitness sculptured Venus on a tortoise, 
to teach that very lesson. It is indeed a bad sign of a 
woman, when her feet abide not in the house. { When 
it was fashionable for English women to make pilgrim- 
ages to Rome, they left scandal behind them in the 
various cities of France and Italy, through which they 
passed. § The reason why the wife is to be a keeper at 
home is that she may make and keep it indeed a 
home ; a shady retreat for her husband from the glare, 
a quiet refuge from the turmoil of the world. The 
husband has the public struggle ; he has many vexations 
out of doors ; many annoyances, which send him home 
worn and irritated. Happy is he who finds in his 
home one to comfort and soothe him ! In spite of the 
wisest tact and precaution there will occasionally be 
times of dejection : the domestic circle will be some- 
times clouded ; the heavens themselves, though oftenest 
clear, are sometimes lowering. There may even be 



* Odyssey, vi. 183. f OiKovpol. — Titus ii. 5. 

X Prov. vii. 11. 

§ Mosh., " Cent." viii., part 2, ch. iii. Schlegel's note. 



42 DULCE DOMUM. 

outbursts of passion, and domestic thunderstorms. 
These may also be wisely managed. Every one knows 
how the metallic spiry rod attracts the lightning, guid- 
ing it childlike down, and then disperses it in the 
ground beneath ; so womanly meekness can receive the 
flashes of human anger, and conduct them harmlessly 
away. 

The patience of woman is beyond all praise. Look 
at the victims in our police courts. The wife contused 
and bandaged refuses to criminate her brutal husband ; 
and often this is done with a wise instinct, for she 
detects insanity in his passion.* The sufferer conquers : 
vincit qui patitur ; for the spectacle of silent and un- 
merited suffering will produce a reaction in hearts that 
are not thoroughly hardened. To the tempest of passion 
succeeds the calm of reflection, when the unkind husband 
may condemn himself, and atone by abundant kindness 
for past wrongs. 

One of the most painful trials a wife can have is a 
discovery that her husband is alienated from her. In 
such a case more than patience is needed; there is 
wanted tact and discretion. Upbraidings would only 
widen the breach, which judicious forbearance and at- 
tractive grace may build up and cement. For a time 
William of Orange was a negligent husband. He was 
drawn away from his wife by other women, particularly 
by one of her ladies, Elizabeth Villiers. In spite of all 
his precautions and concealment, Mary well knew that 



* " She ought not to keep it on her mind, but to lay the biame on 
disease or ignorance." — Arist. Econ., i. 7. 



WIVES. 43 

he was not faithful. She, however, bore her injuries with 
a meekness which deserved and obtained her husband's 
esteem and gratitude. His agony afterwards at her death 
has been already noticed. The very domestics saw the 
tears running down his stern face. " There is no hope," 
he cried to Bishop Burnet ; " I was the happiest man on 
earth ; and I am the most miserable. She had no 
fault ; none : you knew her well ; but you could not 
know, nobody but myself could know her goodness." * 
The wife perfects the husband : — 

" He is the half part of a blessed man, 
Left to be finished by such a she." f 

It is by marriage that he becomes a complete man, sus- 
taining the fuller relations of life. He becomes a husband, 
and generally a father. His interest in society is multi- 
plied, his sympathies enlarged, and his powers called 
into more powerful action. He increases his relationships, 
and becomes a better and more interested citizen. 

A good wife ought to have influence, and she must act 
wisely in order to get it.. How paradoxical, and yet how 
true, is the old Latin maxim of Publius : a wife governs 
by obeying : \ she stoops to conquer, she often yields, and 
her compliance is rewarded with trust and governance. 
What is true for all petitioners is specially true for a wife. 
She must watch her opportunity ; and enter by a favour- 



* Macaulay's " History," ch. xx. I am glad to be able to match 
this royal testimony by a parallel from clerical life : " Only one 
thing makes me tremble," says the Rev. H. V. Elliott of his wife, 
" she is so perfect, God knows her faults, but I do not." 

f Shakspeare's King John, ii. 2. 

X Uxor parendo imperat. 



44 DULCE DOMUM. 

able occasion.* Even a Herod taken at the right time 
will promise half his kingdom. 

In the household the wife is the comforter. In their 
trouble, father and children and all the household look to 
her,- as to a well of sympathy ; and the consolation they 
derive invests her with a charming influence. Now, 
sometimes that influence is used for good and at other 
times for evil. The tyrant Maximin would sometimes 
order his victims to be sewn up in the hides of ani- 
mals, others to be exposed to wild beasts, others again 
to be beaten to death with clubs. His wife by insinuat- 
ing wise counsels with female gentleness, sometimes 
brought back the tyrant to the way of truth and 
humanity. 

The wife of the celebrated James Watt, by her inva- 
riable mildness and cheerfulness, rescued him from a 
depressing lassitude and nervousness, from which he 
had suffered severely. Without her cheering influence, 
he might never have published his inventions to the 
world, f 

The same may be said of Sir William Hamilton's 
metaphysical discourses. He was lethargic and indolent, 
and easily diverted from the present purpose. Added to 
this he was paralysed at an early age. Lady Hamilton 
stimulated, encouraged, and even coaxed him. She sat 
up night after night copying his rough drafts. On some 
occasions the subject of the lecture would prove less 
easily managed than on others, and then Sir William 
would be found writing as late as nine o'clock of a 

* " Sola viri molles aditus et tempora noras." — 2En. iv. 423. 
t Arago. 



WIVES. 45 

morning, while his faithful but wearied amanuensis had 
fallen asleep on a sofa.* 

A wife's influence often prevails in the best things, 
and Cloyis is not the only husband who has been con- 
verted to religion by the lips he loved. It is evident 
that very many believe on the most various grounds, 
some on flimsy tradition, others on critical investigation • 
but all men are apt to be biassed, and all men are apt to 
believe the creed of those whom they love best. Most 
memorable is the gratitude of Mahomet, and the cir- 
cumstances of its declaration are romantic. His young 
wife Ayesha is speaking of his dead wife Cadijah : — 
'"' Was she not old ? " said the blooming beauty ; " and 
has not God given you a better in her place ?" " No, by 
God ! " said Mahomet, with an effusion of honest grati- 
tude, " there never can be a better ! She believed in me 
when men despised me ; she relieved my wants when I 
was poor and persecuted by the world." 

It is allowed that Charles I. was precipitated into 
hasty and imprudent measures through the influence of 
his queen, who was of a somewhat passionate temper, 
and of a different religion from the king. A wife of this 
disposition should distrust herself, and dread giving 
advice to her husband, lest she should lead him into 
indiscreet and venturesome acts. It would be a high 
effort of prudence, if she would rather prevent her own 
influence, by acknowledging occasionally that she was 
hasty, and deprecating her own precipitancy. Business, 
friendship, even kingdoms, have been lost through the 
rash advice of wives. 

* » Life of Sir Wm, Hamilton," by Professor Veitch, p. 207. 



46 DULCE DOMUM. 

The haughty wife is quite as mischievous as the rash 
wife. Humble men have often proud wives. Both the 
incumbent and the bishop may be men of lowly minds, 
but their wives by their hauteur* and disdain often 
manage to offend a whole parish and diocese. The same 
thing happens with the squire's wife and the nobleman's 
wife ; whether it is that a woman over-estimates her posi- 
tion and under-estimates her responsibilities ; whether it 
is that she esteems herself more highly than she ought, 
and does not see the beauty and the wisdom and the 
religion of condescension ; whether it is that she dis- 
trusts her own intrinsic worth, and exaggerates the pre- 
tensions of others ; or is annoyed by the intrusiveness of 
inferiors, and finds pride her easiest and most defensive 
armour. 

The terrible character of Lady Macbeth ought to be 
studied by all strong-minded women that have married 
pliable husbands, and it ought to warn them. God, who 
has made all things double, has provided a counterpart 
of these couples in the natural world. The females of 
certain flies are blood-sucking, whilst the males live on 
flowers, and have their mouths destitute of mandibles, f 
A wife when she is bad can go to the very extreme of 
wickedness, and this ought to make women careful and 
fearful of the very beginnings of evil. Sir Walter Scott 
told of a woman who had poisoned her husband in some 
drink, which she gave him while he was ill ; the man not 



* 'Qq ko.1 Sia yvvaiKu>v vflpeig, TroXXai rvpavvideg a.Tro\u)\aai.~ 
Arist. Polit., v. II. 

f " Culicidae and Tabanidse." — Darwin's "Descent of Man, 
i. 254. 



WIVES. 47 

having the least suspicion, but leaning his head on her 
lap, while she still mixed more poison in the drink, as he 
became thirsty and asked for it.* 

Even such a man as Goethe was greatly influenced by 
the domestic situation. At one time his biographer 
represents him as u happy at last," and speaks of the ex- 
traordinary fascination the loved one exercised over him, 
the deep and constant devotion he gave her. Then he 
was at ease ; then he was genial and happy. Then was 
the season of literary activity and productive power. 

Those who would draw woman out of her domestic 
sphere into unsuitable publicity, do not see wherein the 
grace of womanhood consists, and they underrate the un- 
obtrusive power of wives. No one can calculate how 
much these modest helpers have contributed to the 
works of their distinguished husbands by way of en- 
couragement, stimulus, suggestion, and actual co-opera- 
tion. When women's rights have been fully secured, 
Milton's beautiful lines will still be true : — 

" Nothing lovelier can be found 
In woman, than to study household good, 
And good works in her husband to promote." f 

To the same purpose, and in the same book, he has 
said finely, though probably not from experience : — 

" I, from the influence of thy looks, receive 
Access in every virtue ; in thy sight 
More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were 
Of outward strength ; while shame, thou looking on, 
Shame to be overcome or overreached 
Would utmost vigour raise, and raised unite." 

* " Moore's Life," v. 120. f "Paradise Lost," b. ix. 



48 DULCE DOMUM. 

One could scarcely do a better service to a young wife 
than to point out some of the dangers to which she may 
be exposed. For example, in the first place, levity is to 
be guarded against. Now it is quite possible for levity 
and innocence to subsist together ; but a husband will 
scarcely believe it in his own case ; and so it is that a 
light wife makes not only a heavy but an enraged husband. 
Anne Boleyn may have been entirely innocent ; but we 
all know how her frivolity exasperated the tyrant, and 
led to the most fatal results. 

One of the characters in Lucian, a woman not a 
wife, advises a girl to treat her lover with a little studied 
neglect. This was her love-potion to excite jealousy and 
affection.* The manoeuvre, however, is unlady-like and 
indelicate, and it is, besides, based upon pretence. As 
soon, then, as it is seen through, it is understood and 
despised; and, what is worse, confidence is destroyed. 
An intelligent husband is secured, not by any potion or 
trick, or even by marriage itself, but by affection and 
esteem. Stratagem breeds suspicion, and a good wife 
should be above suspicion.! 

A caution may not be out of place against false security. 
Having won a husband, there is a danger in forgetting 
that he may be lost. More skill and patience are re- 
quisite to secure than to make such conquests. A wife 
should remember that there are still competitors for him ; 
if home is unhappy, he can have a warm welcome else- 



* Lucian, iii. 251 : McyaXoi tpwTtQ yiyvovrai, ti tcvQolto 
dfitXtlcOcu. 

f Trjv efirjv rj^lovv fjirjd' i>7rovor]Qr}vai. — Plut. in Cses., x. 



WIVES. 49 

where : the public-house among the poor, and the club 
among the rich, are the rivals of home. That is a 
melancholy day on which she ceases to live for him and 
lives for others, when she becomes a mere garland for 
admiration ; for the garland has been severed from its 
stem, and must soon fade away. 

For a wife to seek the admiration of other men implies 
disloyalty, and disloyalty saps self-respect. The whole 
course from the lawful to the forbidden is degrading, 
however gentle the slope may be; and it terminates 
sometimes in a most humiliating, sometimes in a most 
disastrous issue. Cleopatra rolling herself in a carpet, tied 
up and carried in like a bale of goods clandestinely to 
her lover Caesar, is one Act; Cleopatra applying the 
deadly serpent to her arm and dying in her youth is 
another Act in the drama of ill-regulated love. To 
counterbalance even the first motion towards the for- 
bidden, women should cultivate self-respect. A high 
sense of dignity, verging even on pride, is a great pre- 
servative of purity. 

Suppose a wife has lost her husband's affection, is it 
possible to regain it, and if so, how ? It is possible ; but 
the process is a very delicate one, and may easily be 
overdone, in which case alienation becomes inveterate, 
and passes into chronic antipathy. A wife then must 
strive to make herself amiable by unremitting care of 
personal appearance, and by that sweet temper, which is 
the preservative of beauty, by a cheerful conversation, 
when it is in season ; by a discreet reticence, when it is 
out of season ; by a demeanour at once graceful and un- 
obtrusive ; and by the avoidance of complaints, which 



50 DULCE DO MUM. 

wrinkle the speaker and chafe the hearer. These are the 
simple charms by which a husband's affection may be 
regained and retained. 

This consideration should make a wife careful of her 
personal appearance, that she may still be pleasing and 
attractive. She must not fret and destroy youth, and so 
become old, while young ; but rather so cherish all that 
is juvenile, that she may retain youth in age; Surely a 
Christian woman should do that as successfully as Ninon 
de l'Enclos, who lived to be ninety, and preserved her 
attractions to a very advanced age, and retained some 
remains of her beauty almost to the last. 

Altercations, even in joke, should be avoided. It is 
not wise to notice every false pronunciation, or gram- 
matical slip.* It is foolish to have a store of tears ready 
at command,— it is fatal to have a quiverful of little 
darts of ridicule. When a quarrel is brooding, some 
wives become the plaintiffs, appear the aggrieved parties, 
and blame that they may not be blamed. But that is a 
short-sighted policy, and is soon seen through and resented. 

What a glimpse it gives us into the history of our 
ancestors to know that in the reign of Henry VIII. a 
proclamation was issued that women should not meet 
together to babble and talk, and that all men should 

* Juv., vi. 456': — " Solcecismum liceat fecisse marito." Queen 
Elizabeth was extremely annoyed when she discovered, as she 
sometimes did, that her French pronunciation was ridiculed by the 
Parisians, and we may be sure that people of inferior position feel 
just the same, though they may have to smother their resentment, 
when their pronunciation, or accent, or voice, is wantonly criticised, 
mimicked, or ridiculed. The power of mimicry is a gift for which 
few have cause to be thankful. 



WIVES. 51 

keep their wives in their houses." English women have 
certainly improved since then, or at least gossip is more 
discreet. Much speaking is reprehensible in many ways, 
but in a wife especially on this account. In the multi- 
tude of words, unsifted because they are so many, some 
of the domestic secrets are sure to be disclosed. Look 
how Josephine tells of Napoleon : — " He is more weak 
and changeable than may generally be imagined." f 
Persons having a tendency this way would do well to 
ponder the weighty words of the author of Romola : — 
" She who willingly lifts up the veil of her married life 
has profaned it from a sanctuary into a vulgar place." \ 

Then there is the danger of jealousy. How unreason- 
able and spiteful this passion sometimes is may be seen 
in the undisguised barbarian. A Sea-Dyak woman dis- 
covered that her lover admired one of Byron's Beauties, 
and accordingly the Beauty's face was soon found 
scratched and disfigured over the eye and nose." § 

No doubt jealousy often proceeds from over-fondness ; 
but even then it is to be suppressed, as it tends to 
produce aversion in most men, and contempt in the 
supercilious. It is the same passion, but a more un- 
reasonable phase of it, which, after marriage, seeks to 
exclude the husband's friends from the house. Juvenal || 
notes this as the characteristic of the over-indulged 
Roman wife. Shakspeare, quick to apprehend the good 
that is in woman, represents Queen Katharine thus ex- 
postulating with the king : — 

* Hume's "History," ch. xxxiii. 
t Alison's "Europe," xxxv. 80. + "Romola," ii. 124. 

§ Brooke's " Sarawak," p. 72. || " Satires," vi. 213. 



52 DULCE DO MUM. 

" Which of your friends 
Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
He were mine enemy ?" 

The highest praise of a wife is concentrated in these 
few words : " The heart of her husband doth safely trust 
in her." * Then all is well. But distrust is an internal 
ulcer that eats away the vitals of domestic life, and which 
neither wealth, nor beauty, nor children can heal. It is 
one of the incurable diseases of married life. 

Some wives have been sacrificed to their husbands, 
others have been sacrificed for them. The wife of 
Romanus III. retired into a monastery, and so removed 
the only bar to her husband's marriage with an empress.! 
The marriage of Josephine was dissolved that Napoleon 
might marry the daughter of Austria. Neither father 
nor mother would die for Admetus ; but his wife Alcestis 
went to death for him. The noble story of Lucretia 
exhibits a pure woman dying that her husband might not 
have a violated wife. 

During the French Revolution many women watched 
for the hour when their husbands were to pass for exe- 
cution, precipitated themselves upon the chariot, locked 
them in their arms, and voluntarily suffered death by 
their side.| 

It is a fine touch in Milton, where Eve prefers Adam 
to the angel. If, in addition to this constant prefer- 
ence, there be " kindness, meekness, and comfort, in her 
tongue, then is not her husband like other men." § 



* Proverbs, xxxi. II. f Gibbon's "History," ch. xlviii. 

I Alison's "Europe," iv. 92. § Ecclus. xxxvi. 22. 



CHAPTER V, 

PARENTS : FATHERS. 

Parents love their children as themselves ; for that 
which proceeds from them becomes by the separation 
like another self;* and it is this consideration which leads 
us to look on children as olive branches, as sunbeams, as 
jewels, as all that is beautiful and delightful; but it ought 
not to prevent us from regarding them as deposits, of 
which we must render an account, and that account will 
be a solemn one. For just as the same soil and the 
same atmosphere produce complete opposites — a' mellow 
grape and a poisonous berry — so the same family may 
send forth into the world devout and useful men, or 
wicked and abandoned profligates. 

Goodness is not enough for this influential position, a 
man must have wisdom as well ; and hence it is often 
seen that one may be a good man, but a bad father. 

Few are able to appreciate to its full extent the re- 
sponsibility of a father. On this point the physician has 
a claim to be heard as well as the theologian, and the 
one can demonstrate the teaching of the other, and both 

* Arist. Eth., viii. 12, 4. 



54 DULCE DOMUM. 

show how God visits the sins of the fathers upon the 
children, unto the third and fourth generation ; for those 
who reject the Scripture theory of hereditary punishment, 
still find themselves at variance with medical science. 
The heathens recognised this doctrine by the light of 
nature, as we see in vEschylus* and Sophocles, t who 
have many warnings respecting hereditary punishment. 
There are, however, also hereditary blessings. Earl 
Stanhope is reported to have said, " In public life I 
have seen full as many men promoted for their fathers' 
talents as for their own." This compensation goes on all 
through the world, and reconciles a fair mind to here- 
ditary liabilities. 

The circumstances of childhood have an early and a 
lasting influence. The very profession of a father tinges 
the mind of his infant. The minister's child would go 
with his little bell, and ring all the people to church ; the 
soldier's child with his little drum would beat the whole 
neighbourhood to arms. 

Parents who are well-informed reap the benefit of that 
information ; they are not ignorant of the secret influ- 
ences and undercurrents which are flowing below the 
surface, and, consequently, they can exert their influence 
in the right direction and at the right time, and with 
concentrated energy. For it is ever to be borne in mind 
that the influence of home, like the attraction of gravity, 
is not proportionate to the surface, but to the mass. 

People talk and act unguardedly before children, 



* Cf. the "Agamemnon," vrs. 735, 761, 1566. 

f (OtoTg) [ir)viov<yiv hg y'tvoq irdXai. — Soph. CEd., C. 965. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 55 

fancying that they are too young to estimate what they 
see and hear. It is true, children may not at the time be 
able to judge ; but words and actions are imprinted upon 
their memory, and in after years will be fresh and vivid 
there. When the judgment is matured, the man can call 
to mind the scenes of boyhood. Imagination resus- 
citates the characters of some bygone act, makes them 
go through their various parts, and rehearse their un- 
guarded words again. Now, however, the man that was 
the boy can interpret a look or a gesture which to him 
at the time had no significance, and he can discover 
motives for acts which, to unjudging childhood, were 
strange or meaningless. Little do the incautious think 
that their behaviour is destined to pass under review at 
some future time, and receive condemnation — like some 
criminal that has for years eluded justice, but is at length 
apprehended, tried, convicted, and condemned. How 
true are the words of Juvenal : " The greatest reverence 
is due to children." * 

This is a peculiar argument, coming home to a father's 
heart, enforcing caution, circumspection, and reality. 
His example is intelligible and ever present, rapid as 
lightning, penetrating as mercury, more real than history, 
more authoritative than magistracy. 

Children are scrutinising, and even a child can detect 
a double life where the inner and outer life do not cor- 
respond ; they can see when a father does not walk 
uprightly : and yet there are many fathers as foolish as 
the crab of the fable, which expected his young ones 

* " Maxima debetur puero reverentia." — Juv. Sat., xiv. 47. 



56 DULCE DOMUM. 

to walk straight, while he himself walked crooked and 
backwards.* 

Often by a single sign is a man's whole character 
disclosed. If you hide every part of a vulture, except 
its sharp talons, one can tell that it is a bird of prey. A 
certain father who was clothed in gravity, who could talk 
charmingly and pray earnestly, yet grudged the fire that 
warmed a dying daughter's room. By this one act he 
showed that covetousness was stronger than paternal 
affection. And indeed men are most easily gauged at 
home, where they lay aside their official and professional 
character, just as the anatomy of trees may be most 
easily studied when they are stripped of their leaves. 

It is to be feared that many, while in a process of 
deterioration, console themselves with the thought of 
what they have once been, and expect honour and re- 
putation for the past ; but past esteem is an aroma 
which evaporates and comes to nothing, therefore the 
source must be replenished day by day — fresh flowers 
must make fresh fragrance. The child is quick to notice 
the withered nosegay, but not skilful to disguise dislike. 
A grievous and galling penalty awaits the useless, trifling, 

* Thackeray has somewhere a pathetic apostrophe : " O Father 
beneficent ! strengthen our hearts : strengthen and purify them, so 
that we may not have to blush before our children." The actual 
prayer of an infant forms a natural pendant to this cry: "Make 
papa and mamma good, for they are sometimes naughty." In the 
light of these prayers such an incident as the following is seen in 
its true proportions. At a wedding party Philip, King of Macedon, 
having indulged too freely in wine, stumbled and fell. His son 
taking advantage of the occasion exclaimed : " See the man who 
was preparing to pass from Europe to Asia. He is not able to pass 
from one table to another without falling." — Plut. in Alex. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 57 

idle father, in his later years, if not before ; he will feel 
himself a superfluity in his house. Such a punishment 
has overtaken even kings. Henry III. of France had 
passed his life playing at cup-and-ball, and snipping 
images out of pasteboard, or teaching his parrots to talk, 
or his lap-dogs to dance ; and king though he was, he 
became a superfluity in his own realm.* 

The father of a family may learn much from his 
children. When Christ took the little child and placed 
it in the midst, what was that but an object-lesson of 
humility ? An observant eye will also notice their trust, 
guilelessness, tenderness, freedom from care, simplicity 
and happiness, and how these are connected with each 
other. Parents will also be infected (and it is a whole- 
some infection) with the mirth of their children. Goethe 
said, " Intercourse with children always makes me feel 
young and happy." Some are too reserved with children, 
and certainly the warnings of the ancient Ecclesiasticus 
(xxx. 9) would sound almost as croaking in these modern 
times. " Cocker thy child," says he, " and he shall make 
thee afraid; play with him and he will bring thee 
to heaviness. Laugh not with him, lest thou have 
sorrow with him, and lest thou gnash thy teeth in 
the end." 

The current of philosophy in our day (and is it not 
right in this ?) is to laugh and play with children, and to 
romp with them to their hearts' delight. An anecdote is 
told of a distinguished English statesman, who was 
gambolling with his children on the floor, when he saw a 

* Motley's "History of the United Netherlands," ii. 558. 



58 DULCE DOMUM. 

grave saturnine visitor approaching : " Let us stop," says 
the father, " for here comes a fool." 

Parents who bandage their children too tightly, impede 
the circulation of other things besides blood. They 
impede the development of life-giving joy. Some one 
having carelessly cut an unripe grape, and finding it acrid 
threw it on the ground. The Greek epigram denounces 
him for extinguishing a joyous feeling on the increase, 
for it would have become wine, and a draught of it might 
perhaps have made some one sing, or have given a 
release from sorrowful care.* 

Education will be treated in a separate chapter ; but 
it would be a great omission to say nothing of training 
here. For parents to a great extent make children what 
they are. Indeed, it is much with a child as with a 
violin. A skilful hand can bring forth any sound, gentle 
or harsh, musical or discordant, but skill and judgment 
are in the highest degree requisite. Take, for instance, 
the all-important matter of religion. If harsh views are 
harshly inculcated, a reaction is almost sure to take 
place. All capricious and tyrannical government pro- 
duces hatred towards the tyrant, and towards all that is 
dear to him — his opinions, theories, suggestions. Hence 
we may sometimes account for the notable reactions in 
children — the father a fanatic, the son an infidel; the 
father strict, the son immoral ; the father a mystic, the 
son a rationalist. We see how the bigoted Churchman 
comes from a Dissenting family, and how the Roman 
proselyte has been cramped in a Presbyterian cradle. 

* Eton Selection, 3. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 59 

Even when the best religion is instilled in excess, we are 
likely to see the proverb verified — "Young saint, old 
sinner." Then there is the opposite danger of tolerating 
everything, encouraging evil passions in children, and 
giving them licence instead of liberty. Such a one will 
have sorrow in his offspring, unless he is wise in time, 
and suffers no evil practice to live within his dwelling. 
He ought to know that there he is high sheriff, and 
responsible for the execution of domestic vices. 

A father may and ought to talk with his children, to 
instruct them, to point out consequences, to advise them, 
to encourage them, to expostulate with them, but never to 
argue, for if he does he may be worsted. Fathers, school- 
masters, and kings stand on the vantage ground of 
authority, and leave it at their peril. On one occasion 
George III. condescended to give Lord Thurlow his 
reasons, and adds the self-sufficient chancellor, " I beat 
him."* 

Some spoil their children, some provoke them, some 
discourage them. The best children are apt to be 
spoiled, to be caressed, and flattered, and puffed up. 
The fond father fancies they are too good to be spoiled. 
He forgets that the insect loves to revel in the most 
delicious peach. 

When children are grown up and resent open rebuke, 
private and affectionate expostulation will be found far 
less offensive and far more efficacious ; and even then it 
must be remembered that receptivity much depends on 
the state of mind. The same argument at one time falls 

* " Life of the Rev. R. H. Barham," p. 28. 



60 DULCE DO MUM. 

on a moist and penitent, at another on an irritated and 
inflammable disposition. Generally speaking, the most 
hopeful youths are open to reason, but not to compulsion. 
What is more elastic than caoutchouc? What resists 
compression more ? Now instead of a rational method 
some provoke their children by arbitrary conduct, per- 
mitting and forbidding the same thing, exercising autho- 
rity unduly, restraining liberty unfairly, and demanding 
a selfish silence instead of tolerating a healthy merriment. 
Every father should bear in mind what was said of Nero : 
" He could touch and tune the harp well, but in govern- 
ment sometimes he used to wind the pins too high, 
sometimes to let them down too low." * This unequal 
exercise of authority was his ruin. 

" My father treats me like a brute," was the saying of 
a poor but bright boy ; and no doubt this is the expe- 
rience of multitudes of poor children. Moliere has 
finely hit off the selfish father dealing with his children : 
— " Give them the whip : when I have eaten and drunk 
well, I wish that every one in my house should be 
satisfied." t Polyphemus is the type of this class, brutal 
and foolish. The whip is his favourite instrument, and 
he has a cruel pleasure in exciting terror and inflicting 
pain. Such a father is not fit to be trusted with the 
management of a horse or the working of a machine, and 
yet is entrusted with the control of little immortals. His 
presence, his step, his very voice is terrible. All play 
and mirth are hushed at his approach. He is the anti- 
type of the shrike, for the moment it utters its well- 

* Bacon's Essays : " Of Empire." 
f " Le Medecin malgre lui," i. 2. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 61 

known note a whole collection of singing birds is put to 
silence. 

The manifest result of such treatment is alie?iation. 
Children cease to reverence and love those who are 
unfair and unjust to them. Their little hearts first flame 
with resentment, and then their affections are reduced to 
ashes — cold and estranged. 

It is one of the mysteries of life that parents should 
be entrusted with children and yet be utterly unfit to 
train them. No doubt thousands of little ones die in 
consequence, and tens of thousands are stunted in their 
moral and intellectual growth. Sometimes we see a 
parent deliberately set to work to discourage a child, by 
deriding and depreciating its first efforts. Now this dis- 
paragement is the finger that touches the bell and stops 
its vibrations. Can we wonder if, after this, its early 
aspirations are dulled and stifled? Or how does such 
an unskilful hand deal with an obstinate disposition ? 
Instead of seeing that such a quality can be utilised with 
the highest advantage, and only needs to be diverted 
into a right channel, he sets to work to destroy it alto- 
gether, and drains away all the vigour of the will, and 
succeeds in rendering the child crushed and spiritless, if 
not imbecile. In some cases the issue is more disastrous. 
The child will not give in, and the discipline kills him. 
A man who discourages and depresses his children makes 
them less able to cope with their fellows, and (for such 
men have low views) less valuable and profitable to him- 
self.* People who would regard such conduct as 

* BXa7rro/x£voi d' 'i7nroi (3t\TiovQ r) ^tipovq yiyvovrai ; 
Xeipovg. — Plato, Rep. i. 9. 



62 DULCE DO MUM. 

suicidal, may yet not encourage their children so de- 
liberately as they ought to do. They may even uncon- 
sciously discourage them, and this is very easily done. 
When bees seem on the very point of swarming, a cloud 
passing over the sun is enough to retard them ; and in 
the same way a frown is sufficient to discourage the 
development of goodness. A sagacious father, not only 
by express words, but by his own demeanour and looks, 
both as a matter of policy and duty, will cheer and help 
his children in every way. Even such a man as Keble 
felt this influence : " When my father keeps up himself, 
he keeps us all up with him." * 

The children of the eccentric are greatly to be pitied ; 
and it should be a powerful argument with fathers to 
avoid all singularities for the sake of their children. 
Those parents who have fallen out of line with society 
are apt to commit the mistake of the unskilful woodman, 
who prunes the tree with so little taste that he converts 
a natural beauty into an artificial deformity. 

In a well-governed family a look is often as efficacious 
as a lecture ; and this may be attained without tyranny. 
A distinguished man, being asked how he managed to 
have his children so well-conditioned, so free, and yet so 
submissive, replied, " I give them plenty of rein, but I 
always let them feel that I hold the reins." 

It is a great mistake to make light of little sins, and to 
think them little because they are in children. The 
evil grows with our growth, and can be best dealt with 
and most easily eradicated in childhood. Otherwise, 

* "Keble'sLife,"p. 130. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 63 

the infant vice is all the while growing up, and will 
one day become a mighty man, and may strangle all 
domestic rule. 

Great caution should be observed in allowing children 
to go from home on visits. It exposes them to various 
dangers. Some vain people delight in stealing children's 
affections. Others so entertain and pamper them that 
the little ones imbibe a fondness for feasting and gaiety, 
and are apt to prefer the friend's home to their own. 
Sometimes a child comes back from a visit to jocular, 
sportive, worldly people with an evident love for jollity, 
and a distaste for a quiet, religious happiness. 

The question of rewards requires much prudence ; for 
they may either foster all that is good and in a right 
way, or they may force the seeds to germinate unnaturally 
and unhealthily. Some are so etherial that they dis- 
approve of all rewards. Spinoza thought that we should 
love God without expecting to be loved in return. But 
even Moses had respect to the recompense of his reward. 
There is a time coming when we shall bear the image of 
the heavenly, but, as yet, we bear only the image of the 
earthly : — 

" We who do our lineage high 
Draw from beyond the starry sky, 
Are yet upon the other side, 
To earth and to its dust allied." * 

It is, indeed, wise to associate in the minds of children 
well-doing and happiness as cause and effect. The 
danger lies in rewarding grossly and unskilfully. Money 

* Archbishop Trench. 



64 DULCE DO MUM. 

rewards are dangerous, because they tend to make good- 
ness pecuniary, and instil low views, as if a man were 
only to act rightly for what he could get ; but approba- 
tion, a privilege, a book, a sight, are all of a higher order 
and less dangerous. 

Some believe in punishing ; and unquestionably there 
are times — of rebellion, for instance — when a parent 
must punish and punish promptly. When a bee is seized 
suddenly and handled fearlessly, it is astonished, and 
forgets to use its sting. It is the same with children. 
This is very different, however, from habitual punish- 
ment.- Severe disciplinarians appeal to the Book of Pro- 
verbs ; but certainly the maxims of Solomon may wisely 
be tempered with the gentleness of Christ. Children 
often feel a burning resentment against the hand that 
administers personal chastisement, and when the resent- 
ment subsides, it subsides into latent hatred. Parents 
should not unnecessarily incur such a risk.* Even re- 
proof should be administered in the wine of sweetness, 
for then the better taste will dissipate the worse. Intelli- 
gent love will gain a hearing ; it will be more powerful 
and lasting and influential than punishment. Fear and 
restraint in education are barriers of sand raised against 
the influx of the tide. These will not guard your chil- 
dren, but " understanding shall keep them." Above all 
do not cherish a life-long grudge — do not perpetuate it 
after death. The bishop who published his daughter's 
disobedience and disinheritance in his will, had been a 
severe schoolmaster in his time, and was, no doubt, con- 

* " Quem quisque odit, periisse expetit." Cic, De Off., ii. 7. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 65 

demned by thoughtful and Christian men for introducing 
into his family a discipline more suited to the school or 
the army. 

God gives to parents what parents give to children, 
rewards and punishments. Indeed he can recompense 
parents in their children. What can we expect of chil- 
dren if they are not educated, if their minds are not in- 
structed and their affections drawn out ? What an ad- 
monitory suggestion nature gives in the fact that ill- 
developed buds turn to hard and sharp-pointed thorns ! 
It bids the careless parent beware lest the little circle of 
rosebuds round about his table should some day be 
transformed into a crown of thorns. 

God moves in a mysterious way even in a family. 
The children copy the father's foibles, and please him ; 
they copy his vices, and punish him. A man may love 
his sins, but he is alarmed when he sees his children 
loving them. The child is often a little mirror, in which 
a father sees himself with satisfaction or disgust. Every 
one can perceive that there is a parental punishment in 
the law by which one's prejudices are first imbibed and 
then reproduced in one's family. And even when they 
are not imbibed, they may be cited as precedents and 
arguments ad hominem. Children are quick to notice 
and skilful to array a father's prejudices against himself. 
In this way Cambyses placed dogs and cats at the head 
of his army, and the Egyptians refused to attack this 
sacred vanguard. 

Antipathies are not only imbibed and reproduced, but 
often intensified ; and when a father sees these hateful 
passions in his dearest ones, he cannot, if he is a reflect- 

F 



66 DULCE DOMUM. 

ing man, forbear to recognise the product of his own 
sowing. Was it not natural in the great French Revolu- 
tion that the French children should amuse themselves 
by killing birds and small animals with little guillo- 
tines ? 

This principle has as yet been understated. One 
might go farther and say' that a man receives his keenest 
pleasure and acutest pain in his children. Who would 
not pity that king (whose whole life was destructive of all 
pity) who could bear the defection of a kingdom and the 
desertion of an army, but when he was told of his 
family's disloyalty, burst into tears, and cried in agony, 
"God help, me, my own children have forsaken me."* 
It is James II. who thus stands forth as the type of a 
deserted father. 

The arguments against abandonment are very strong ; 
for, first, in all probability, the outcast will go from bad 
to worse, and then these prodigals die early, and, when 
they are in their grave, mournful thoughts come visiting 
the spirit of the survivors. This was the pathetic case of 
our Henry II. His son had been most ungrateful, 
undutiful, and violent, but at the prospect of death he 
became contrite, and entreated his father to visit and 
forgive him. The king feared it was a ruse, and durst 
not trust himself in his son's hands. But when the proof 
came that his son was dead and had died penitently, the 
good prince was affected with the deepest sorrow. He 
thrice fainted away, he accused his own hard-heartedness 
in refusing the dying request of his son, and lamented 

* Hume's " History," ch. lxxi. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 67 

that he had lost the opportunity of bestowing his forgive- 
ness. 

Difficult indeed it is to advise when a parent has the 
excruciating trial of an abandoned child. We can 
understand the anguish Edmund Kean must have felt, 
when quarrelling with his son, he said : " Go ! you 
are no longer my son." * But it was not true,t and it 
was not wise. It was not true, for a son can never cease 
to be a son ; and it was not wise, for though children may 
abandon themselves, they ought never to be abandoned 
by their parents, because there is evermore this hope — 
an erring child, stranded on the shore of life, may betake 
himself to reflection on the past. From recollection 
there comes a gush of feeling, a spring-tide of tears, 
which will set him afloat once more, and enable him to 
steer his course back again to the domestic harbour from 
which he started. 

Fathers, like other classes, must be prepared for dis- 
appointments. The learned man may find that his son 
has no taste for scholarship, the pious father may see his 
child indifferent to religion. He may advise, reprove, 
expostulate, and yet not succeed in making his children 
such as he would. Now if you cannot make them what 
you wish, remember how long the heavenly Artificer has 
been striving to mould you into an approved fashion, 
and how unsymmetrical you still are ; and thinking of 
this, be gentle and patient. 

What distresses parents often and exceedingly is the 
want of caution and circumspection in their children. 

* "Life," ii. 64. f "Efvcag avTov.—CEd. Col., 1189. 



68 DULCE DO MUM. 

There is so much thoughtlessness and recklessness, so 
much daring, even to the risk and loss of life. Now are 
the young to be too much blamed for that, which is 
indeed a characteristic of youth? An appreciation of 
danger and the caution which results from it, is the 
gradual acquisition of experience, and until they are 
experienced, their heedlessness must be cautioned and 
supplemented by our wiser fear." 

A father is legally bound to provide for his children's 
present, he is morally bound to provide for his children's 
future. There is for every one the endowment of a good 
education f — a little fortune in itself. Besides, there is 
the insurance office. On the mere principle of self- 
respect a man ought to make this provision, for where it 
has been neglected, we often see the orphans brought up 
in genteel beggary, and old friends and acquaintances 
helping reluctantly and with murmurs. Of course such a 
provision is here meant as shall secure them a good edu- 
cation, and support them till they are able to work for 
themselves. A provision which would make them inde- 
pendent, and enable them to live in idleness, is, in the 
words of Lord Melbourne, " of all things the most preju- 
dicial to young men." 

Here I might say a word about the disposal of 
daughters. No father has a right ' ; to give them away." J 



* " Sin in tanto omnium metu solus non timet, eo magis refert 
me mihi atque vobis timere." — Sallust. Cat., c. 52. 

f " It is not to the praise of Shakspeare that his daughter Judith 
should have made a mark instead of signing her name." — 
"Memoir," by Dyce. 

% "At istuc periclum in fUia fieri, grave est." — Ter. Andr., 3, 3, n. 



PARENTS: FATHERS. 69 

The phrase is an unhappy one, although sanctioned by 
consecrated usage. Daughters are the chief hostages of 
God.* A father who barters his daughter for business, 
money, title, or any other selfish aggrandisement, sins 
against his child. Who would not admire and applaud 
the noble conduct of the Duke of Orleans? On his 
way to the scaffold he was made to halt twenty minutes, 
and his life would have been spared, if he had consented 
to give his daughter in marriage to Robespierre ; but he 
would not. He went on to the scaffold, and because he 
would not sacrifice his daughter he sacrificed himself. 

A father who neglects his children, and takes no pains 
with them, who depresses or provokes them, should 
bear in mind the quaint prophecy of Plautus : " That he 
is preparing a severe winter for himself." f 

What a pleasant sight it is, and happily not a rare one, 
to see fathers supported by the children they have 
reared, comforted by the children they have trained, and 
made illustrious by the children they have educated. 
And in this noble country, even poor parents, who have 
trained their son wisely and holily, may have the joy of 
seeing him sit on the white throne of Canterbury. 

* 'Eyw Ss rdXXa fia.ica.piog irscpvic' dvrip 

ttXtjv Ig Qvyarspag. — Eurip. Orestes, 540. 
f Trinumraus, ii. 3. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PARENTS : MOTHERS. 

A child is a magnet, which attracts both parents to 
itself, and so to each other. Every mother, therefore, 
has cause to thank God for this centre of magnetic force ; 
for it establishes a bond of union between man and wife, 
sacred as the marriage service and stronger than the 
marriage settlement. 

It is to be hoped that it was only a transient mode 
which prevailed in Boston, Richmond, and New York, 
when it was accounted a sign of high breeding to be 
known as a childless wife.* This fashion, like so many 
other fashions, thoroughly unnatural, appears now and 
then in the world, and arises sometimes from a desire to 
be thought rich, and sometimes from a wish to be free 
from encumbrances, so as to live a life of gaiety. Child- 
less wives pass out of remembrance anonymous, while 
Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, obtains everlasting 
fame, because she esteemed her children her best jewels. 
The small increase in the population of France in our 
time has been justly regarded as a symptom of corrup- 

* Hepworth Dixon's "New America," ii. 310. 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. ft 

tion. Among the old Persians, in their palmy days, next 
to bravery in battle, this was considered the greatest 
proof of manliness, to be able to exhibit many children ; 
and to such as could exhibit the greatest number, the 
king sent presents every year; for numbers were con- 
sidered strength." 

The curse of work has been transmuted into a blessing. 
Has not woman's sorrow also been resolved into a 
" pleasing pain " ? Has not God given many secret 
joys to mothers? Has He not abundantly compensated 
them for motherhood? Are there not delights to cor- 
respond with its cares ? Even among birds is there not 
music as long as incubation goes on ? Has God con- 
sidered birds, and has He forgotten mothers ? The 
mother of Henry, King of Navarre, sang a gay Bearnese 
song as he was coming into the world. 

The influence of a mother on her children is infinite. 
The milk is the least that they imbibe, and after a time 
they are weaned from that ; but from other influences 
they are never weaned. Napoleon said : " My opinion 
is that the future good or bad conduct of a child de- 
pends entirely on the mother." If he had said mainly 
instead of entirely there would have been no exaggera- 
tion. 

The mother is eminently conservative; and it is owing 
to her influence that traditions crystallize in the mind of 
the child The watch at the cradle is as vigilant as the 
watch on the Rhine, and as potent to prevent the inva- 



* Herod., i. 136. This is also the manly and sensible view of 
Scripture (Ps. cxxvii. 5). 



72 DULCE DOMUM. 

sion of hostile influences. One reason why children are 
more helpless than the young of other animals may be 
that they should be longer under the influence and 
teaching of the mother; and although her injunctions 
are often disputed and disobeyed, and although her 
authority seems slight, yet slight things are often quietly 
powerful. How light is the bird's wing, and yet how 
vigorous — propelling it over the stormy ocean and over 
boundless space ! 

This influence may be calculated according to the 
personal character of the mother. If there is a want of 
thorough truthfulness, if she is one of those who restrains 
her infant from the nosegay by the assurance that the 
flowers will bite, her influence for good will be almost 
inappreciable. If, on the contrary, she is a woman of 
high character, genuine and upright, who would think 
it as terrible for her child to imbibe vice as to swallow 
poison, and if, moreover, she can teach goodness 
sweetly, her influence will be of the very greatest dimen- 
sion and of the very longest duration. 

This influence originates in the intimate association of 
mother and child at the most impressive and plastic 
time of life, in the earnest parental affection, in the 
quick ear, which hears the faintest signal of pain ; in the 
watchfulness which repels even a fly from the sleeping 
infant.* It is well that a mother should recognise her 
enormous influence, in order that she may use it rightly 
and with a due sense of responsibility. The little one is 

* wg ore [trjTrip 
iraidoQ tepyy fivlav, 60' rjdu Xk^trai virvy. 

— Iliad, iv. 130. 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. 73 

as gold, and she is the die-stamper. The child is the 
reproduction of herself. The arrogant mother sees her 
child developing into a little dogmatist ; the gay mother 
sees her child budding into a little flirt. A Volumnia 
makes a Coriolanus. If the character has been dis- 
guised, it is a just retribution, when children turn out 
just as their parents really were, not as they seemed, and 
also carry out that derived nature to a more open and 
full development. The wise and good mother also be- 
holds her characteristics reproduced in her children, and 
sometimes others also can trace the likeness. After a 
lengthened interview with Goethe's mother, an enthu- 
siastic traveller exclaimed, " Now do I understand how 
Goethe has become the man he is." * 

History has preserved the portraits of many mothers. 
Of these, Antonina, wife of Belisarius, is the type of the 
voluptuous, heartless, and cruel. Her son, Photius, 
had disclosed her infidelity to her husband. For this 
she caused him, though of a sickly constitution, to be 
tortured by the scourge and the rack, to be shut up in 
a subterraneous prison : twice he escaped, and was twice 
dragged from the altar to the dungeon. " Can a mother 
forget her child? Yea, she may forget. "f 

The deposed Emperor David, with his seven sons and 
nephew, was removed to Constantinople, where they 
soon perished. Their dead bodies were thrown out un- 
buried beyond the walls. No one ventured to approach 
them but the Empress Helena, who, clad in a humble 
garb, repaired to the spot with a spade in her hand. 

* Lewes's "Life,"i. 13. f Is. xlix. 15. 



74 DULCE DO MUM. 

During the day she guarded the bodies of her husband 
and children from the dogs that came to devour them, 
and in the darkness of the night deposited them in a 
trench which she dug.* Perhaps the Empress had read 
of Rizpah, whose two sons were given up to the Gibeon- 
ites, and hanged on a hill and gibbeted. The poor 
mother sat on sackcloth, on the hard rock, watching for 
months, and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest 
on them by day nor the beasts of the field by night. f 
No doubt civilisation and religion sharpen parental 
affection, while heathen barbarism blunts it. Captain 
Cook consented to bring away two youths from New 
Zealand, and he informed their parents that they would 
never return. This declaration made no impression : 
the father of the youngest lad resigned him with an 
air of indifference which he would scarcely have shown 
at parting with a dog ; the mother of the other youth 
took her leave of him with tender affection, but soon 
resumed her cheerfulness and went away wholly uncon- 
cerned. % 

At 2 Chron. xxii. 3 we have the portrait of a wicked 
mother, Athaliah. She had a son, Ahaziah, who after- 
wards became king ; but he walked in the ways of the 
house of Ahab, and the startling reason which is assigned, 
is — that his mother was his cowiseller to do wickedly. That 
counsel ended in his ruin, after he had reigned but one 
short year. This portrait reminds one of Rebekah, far 
back in the historic gallery. She is wily and unscrupu- 



* Gibbon's "History," vii. 335. Editorial note. 

f 2 Sam. xxi. 10. % " Cook's Voyages," p. 269. 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. 75 

lous, asuggester of evil and fertile in stratagem, disguises 
her son with skins, and deceives her husband with goat- 
flesh instead of venison. No doubt it was not only this 
lesson of craft, but the inherited disposition of subtlety 
from such a mother, that made Jacob's path so crooked 
and unhappy. 

How much the Church owed to St. Augustine ! how 
much he owed to his mother, Monica ! " She was 
eminently pious ; " * that is the key to his life, for Augus- 
tine would probably never have written if Monica never 
had prayed. How different the character and career of 
Chrysostom might have been, if his mother Anthusa had 
not been an excellent and pious woman, who procured 
for him the best instructors in all branches of learning. 
In the same way we must acknowledge the influence 
of Nonna on Gregory Nazianzen, for she, like the 
mother of Samuel, devoted her son to the Lord before he 
was born.\ 

The child is most plastic in its earliest years : then the 
human clay can be moulded into any shape by a skilful 
hand. This is why religious parties have striven to get 
possession of infants. In the negotiations for a marriage 
between the Roman Catholic princess Henrietta and 
Charles L, the Pope stipulated that the children should 
be educated by the princess till ten years of age. On 
this Hume sagaciously remarks : " The same reason, 



* Mosheim, "Eccles. History." Murdoch's note. 

f Let no one smile at this as though it were a premature anxiety. 
The Divine Being has caused the parental instinct to operate very- 
early in birds ; the nightingale has been known to carry away its 
eggs from danger. 



76 DULCE DO MUM. 

which made the Pope insert that article, should have in- 
duced the King to reject it." 

Under the Spartan system education was the practice 
of obedience.* But that system had' grave ' defects, of 
which one was that the manner was more important 
than the principle. A boy might steal if he did it 
skilfully ; but if he did it clumsily, so as to be detected, 
he was severely flogged. f This feeling still lingers 
among those who fear the publication of their children's 
vices more than the vices themselves. 

As has been already explained, the parents should 
not argue. It should generally be sufficient to tell the 
child to do a thing, without telling why. % Afterwards, as 
reason dawns, explanations may be vouchsafed, as a help 
to intelligent obedience. 

The ancient Persian mode of education was very 
simple, and suited to an uncivilised era ; chiefly physical, 
but having the grandest element of morality. They 
taught only three things to the boys from five years of 
age to twenty — to ride on horseback, to shoot with 
the bow, and to speak the truth. § Christian schools might 
learn a lesson from that Persian primer. 

Much depends upon the first teaching, the initiation, 
the accurate reception of elementary truths and lessons ; 
only let precocity be discouraged. It is true in more 
senses than one that a late spring makes a fruitful year. 
Let the children have little teaching, but the best. 



* Plut. Lye, xvi. f Ibid., xvii. 

X To d' otl irpwrov Kal dpxv- — Arist. Eth., i. 7, 20. 
§ Herod., i. 136. 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. 77 

We should give them the best masters and the best books 
we can afford. We should take them to hear the best 
preachers, the best musicians, the best singers, the best 
lecturers. Much do they err who set their children to 
practise on an old, worn-out musical instrument out of 
tune and tone. Such economy does not attune but it 
untunes the ear. 

Education is the best weapon of precaution * and the 
noblest form of provision. It will enable children to 
beware of snares, to conquer difficulties, to hold their 
own, and to enjoy the fruits of their labours. These 
faculties are better than legacies. 

A mother should give her children a sound religious 
training, but not in excess. She should pray for and with 
her children. She should teach them to pray. It is 
admirable to see a strong man praying ; it is venerable 
to see an old man praying ; it is interesting to hear a 
sailor, or a soldier, or a beggar, or a king, or a giant 
praying ; but nothing is more beautiful than to see an 
infant on its tender knees, lisping, " Our Father, which 
art in heaven." 

No teaching requires more discretion or more sweet- 
ness than the religious. Compulsory piety breeds infidels. 
The case of Lord Bolingbroke is exactly in point. 
His early education was directed by a puritanical 
mother, whose imprudent zeal compelled him painfully 
to peruse huge tomes of controversial divinity, when 
far too young to understand their value, and thus, per- 



* CEd. Tyr., p. 170. 



78 DULCE DOMUM. 

haps, implanted in his mind the first seeds of his aversion 
to the truths of Revelation.* 

Next to religion should come the care of health, which 
has much to do with religion. The Spartans, with a 
far-seeing sagacity, regarded the health of marriagable 
persons in the interest of the unborn. The general 
sentiment of Greece approved the destruction of sickly 
and deformed infants, sacrificing the life of the indivi- 
dual for the good of the race. But as genius has not 
seldom dwelt in malformation, some Grecian Pope or 
Byron may thus have been lost to the world. Perhaps 
God designed a lesson to parents in the auricula, for, 
if the more weakly plants are tended with special care, 
they generally produce the finest flowers. All children, 
and especially the weakly, should have plenty of whole- 
some food, exercise, and mirth. Especially they should 
not be stinted of sleep. If so they rise unrefreshed, are 
listless, languid, nervous, and irritable ; whereas if they 
were sufficiently rested, they could perform their tasks 
more easily, and would be more bright and cheerful and 
amiable. 

There are wayward ages, at which mothers need to be 
very judicious, especially in the case of girls. Harsh- 
ness might be permanently injurious, but the skill and 
forbearance which experience have taught will be saving 
and salutary. 

Preferences ought not to be indulged in a family. 
Rebekah's favouritism for Jacob destroyed their domestic 
happiness for evermore. Sometimes in order that one 

* Lord Marion's " History of England," i. 34. 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. 79 

member of the family may have special advantages, the 
other members are neglected.* Parents, who are tempted 
in this way, should bear in mind that not seldom a favour- 
ite child has turned out the most undutiful. A parent's 
instinct is often right, but it is not infallible. Napoleon's 
mother expected least from him of all her children. The 
celebrated Isaac Barrow, mathematician and theologian, 
was not a hopeful boy ; and his father, in the bitterness of 
his heart, would express the wish that if it pleased God 
to take away any of his children, it might be this unpro- 
mising son. 

The mother has great need of firmness, for being gene- 
rally tender and feeling, she is apt to be importuned and 
teased into granting what her judgment has at first and 
instinctively condemned. She must not too much mind the 
vexations and crosses of her little ones. These are to prepare 
them for the heavier trials that are to come. She ought 
also to support the authority of teachers and governesses, 
as far as possible, otherwise the children will learn an evil 
lesson of insubordination, and the teachers will be para- 
lyzed in their work. It might seem superfluous to add 
that the wife should always uphold the husband's authority, 
and yet cases have been known, where an unaffectionate 
wife appealed to the children against their father, taking 
their word as a verdict. 

Without anything of espionage, mothers should watch 
the various and varying influences which, like winds from 



* This has also happened on a larger scale. That there might 
be abundance at Paris, the people of Normandy and Anjou were 
stuffing themselves with nettles." — Macaulay's "History," vii. 54. 



80 DULCE DO MUM. 

every point of the compass, blow upon them. A servant 
may be sapping the foundation, while parents and 
teachers are rearing the superstructure. Sometimes a 
governess will secretly undo her own work, and injure 
the mind which it was her duty to develop and im- 
prove. 

Restraint must not be harsh, nor too openly expressed 
— so as to betray a want of confidence. Girls especially 
should feel that they are guarded, not watched. At the 
same time restraint is often a source of safety ; that cage 
which deprives the lark of liberty protects the sweet 
singer from the assault of the hawk. 

It is a mistake to discourage all studies in dress and 
the toilet. Perhaps the allusion will be pardoned, but 
it is a suggestive fact that the worst and most hopeless 
female prisoners show no pride in anything. Moderate 
tastes for personal appearance and adornment ought to 
be encouraged, but always according to position and 
station. Among the poorer classes, girls dressed in 
finery and allowed to gad about constantly, become 
marks for the sensual and designing. The moth, 
that flies out in the dark with its conspicuous white 
wings, is soon a captive in some hostile hand. God 
teaches this, and more than this, by the analogies of 
Nature. There are also toucans in the moral world, 
watching when the nest is unprotected, and then pouncing 
on the little ones. 

Unwise is the mother who acts so as to be seen of her 
children. If she makes a parade of piety, her religious 
influence will be nil, and the piety itself will expire. 
There is an ant which flaps its wings, till they are dis- 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. 81 

jointed from the body and fall off — it preaches a prac- 
tical lesson to the pretentious. 

It is sad to see a mother despised in her old age on 
account of her garrulity. The faults which are attributed 
to advanced years might often much more correctly be 
ascribed to folly — folly that has been allowed to grow 
unpruned. The mother of bright children, by her 
indiscreet talkativeness, gives the satirical occasion to 
say that eagles and birds of paradise have been hatched 
by a goose. But that is not the worst ; her own children 
become less reverent. They listen to her palpable 
prejudices with impatience, and are sometimes provoked 
to a derisive retort. 

Maternal power will become ridiculous, when it is 
unduly prolonged. When, for instance, she follows a 
son to the university to watch over him. It fared ill with 
Mammgea, mother of the Emperor Alexander Severus, 
on this account. By exacting from his riper years the 
same dutiful obedience which she had justly claimed 
from his inexperienced youth, she exposed to public 
ridicule both her son's character and her own.* 

There is a sort of pardonable selfishness, which tempts 
a mother to grasp at any apparent advantages for her 
children. There is an equal love and a greater wisdom 
in declining them. The mother of Caius Marius wept 
because her son had obtained the consulship so young, f 
The Liberal party at the Revolution wished to return to 
Parliament Lord Russell, a boy of fifteen, who was about 
to commence his studies at Cambridge. They said : — 

* Gibbon's " History," ch. vi. f Aur. Vict. 

G 



82 DULCE DO MUM. 

" There will be no expense. There will be no contest. 
Thousands of gentlemen on horseback will escort him to 
the hustings : nobody will dare to stand against him." 
Lady Russell, with excellent sense and feeling, refused to 
sacrifice her son. His education, she said, would be 
interrupted ; his head would be turned ; his triumph 
would be his undoing. 

Parents should not be alarmed at every fault, at a 
slang word, or a wayward act, as if it were a vice. Not 
every growth is a cancer. We cannot expect children to 
have all the propriety and all the taste which experience 
brings. One great mistake in dealing with them is to 
expect that they can walk at the same step as we can. 
Neither physically, intellectually, nor morally can they 
do this, and therefore we should make allowance for this 
inability, and not be angry when they cannot progress 
at the same rate that we do. Let all their weaknesses 
and shortcomings, and even frowardness, be tried by " the 
law of kindness." 

What was said of fathers playing with children is much 
more applicable to mothers ; and the way in which they 
do this is often admirable. They play with the doll, talk 
childish dialect, propose riddles, act charades, tell stories, 
sing songs, engage in dances and romps. This seasoned 
with a little sprinkling of wisdom will do no harm, but 
good; for mirth is better than moping, better for the 
health, better for the affections, better for the whole 
character. It increases mutual love— it makes the 
children love the parents, makes the parents love the 
children. Dull indeed must he be who sees nothing 
suggestive in the playful gambols of young animals, nor 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. 83 

perceives that it is exhilarating and unconscious exercise. 
No observant mother will check the effervescence and 
merriment of childhood, even though a little damage 
may be done. Romping implies health; The cham- 
pagne which breaks most bottles is the best. 

There is also an intellectual play, which should be 
discriminately encouraged. Efforts at wit and humour 
should be countenanced, and little narratives patiently 
listened to, but personal jests and rude criticisms should 
be peremptorily prohibited.* 

From genial affection arises an amiable danger, the 
danger of idolatry. Out of all her fondness a mother 
especially is apt to weave webs of hope, scarcely stronger 
than the spider's, and apt to be broken by a thousand 
accidents. Then in the midst of poignant grief arises 
the misgiving, — " Have I loved my child too much, and 
provoked the jealousy of God?" She ought not to 
refuse to admit this possibility, and she may even imagine 
the little idol in its coffin. If the imagination is never 
realised, it has at least left a tinge of soberness ; and if it 
is, there has been a sort of preparation for the bereave- 
ment. Christianity does much to soothe, but it does not 
always reconcile us to the loss. Hear the acknowledg- 
ment of an advanced Christian : — " Our dear departed 
child was so wound up with all our home feelings, that we 

* Some will smile with approbation when their children are 
indulging in undutiful and impertinent sallies, and laugh at their 
infantile oaths. Le Sage painted from nature and life, when he 
described his hero narrating : " Je me moquais a tout moment de 
mon pere et de ma mere. lis ne faisaient que rire de mes saillies ; 
et plus elles etaient vives, plus ils les trouvaient agreables." If such 
parents should afterwards weep, are they much to be pitied ? 



84 DULCE DO MUM. 

cannot be reconciled to her loss, though for her pure 
spirit heaven was a fitter place than our society." * Still, 
though we may mourn, let us not repine. Death might 
have been more greedy. Sometimes the same hearse at 
the same time has carried father and mother and children 
to the same open grave. 

Frequently the good training of one family is undone 
by the bad training of another. Your child, well con- 
ditioned, goes to spend the day with the children of a 
friend. Perhaps those children are rude to their parents, 
are accustomed to unwise indulgences, are full of the 
vanities of the world, and your child returns home in- 
fected by the association. This remark applies even to 
very little children ; for they imitate the very words, 
and in imitating the words, imitate the very sentiments 
of other little ones. Great care, therefore, is requisite 
in the "selection of companions, even at a very early age. 

There is a sort of moral rebound, on which a good 
mother may hopefully calculate. Children may go 
wrong, may act the part of the prodigal and seem lost ; 
yet if they have been well and wisely educated, the 
echoes of infancy will be heard in still moments in after- 
years. Some little hymn, hallowed and illuminated by 
earliest memories, will keep repeating itself under cir- 
cumstances widely different and unhappy, till the man 
comes to himself, and resolves to go back to his first ex- 
perience and his early happiness. God not seldom gives 
to men that elasticity by which they can become little 
children again. 

* " Memorials of Bishop Hampden," p. 190. 



PARENTS: MOTHERS. 85 

On the other hand, is it to be wondered at if the 
young vulture becomes like the old vulture ? * She feeds 
her callow brood with carrion, therefore this is the food 
of the vulture when grown up. 

It must be a poignant reflection to many parents to 
realise that their offspring would have been far more 
amiable, intellectual, and brilliant if they had been more 
wisely disciplined ; to feel, when too late, what a brilliant 
play of colours would the diamond have displayed, if it 
had been more skilfully cut ! 

* Juv., xiv. 77. 



CHAPTER VII. 



CHILDREN. 



Childhood is humanity in the bud, and children are the 
men and women that are to be. The next generation 
will be better and wiser, more intelligent and more happy 
than the present, if they are trained up in more excellent 
ways than we have been. If it were possible to make 
this clear to children and to interest them in co-opera- 
tion, so that they might be influenced by the noble hope 
of making the world better, a glorious result might be 
expected. 

The circumstances of childhood are often diametrically 
opposite. The sick child of the rich has toys, and flowers, 
and scents, and trinkets, and pictures, and servants at his 
bidding ; the sick child of the poor is carried out by his 
mother to the hospital in the cold, drizzling rain. It is 
better neither to be cradled in luxury nor in penury. 
Children brought up in moderate circumstances are likely 
to be the best disciplined, because penury stunts and 
luxury enervates. 

One of the best elements of character, as well in a 
child as in a man, is reverence. This is the feeling due 
to parents and to God, our Father in heaven. It is more 



CHILDREN. 87 

than respect ; it is respect blended with awe. One void 
of reverence unconsecrates all the mysteries and sanctities 
of life. Some boast that they have divested themselves 
of this feeling, acting with the same short-sightedness as 
a self-sufficient surgeon, who regards some little member 
of his body as a superfluity, amputates it, and never 
enjoys real health again. 

Docility, a beautiful characteristic in children, will 
never be far removed from reverence. The child that 
reverences father and mother will also be docile. Now 
a docile child will not refuse correction, because he sees 
that it is a means of improvement ; but he who rejects 
reproof deprives himself of real advantages. He cannot 
bear to hear the pendulum of admonition ticking in his 
ears ; then stops it, and does not know the time. 

One of the blessings for which a good man is most 
thankful in after-life is early piety. He feels that it has 
preserved him from many dangers, and increased his 
health, and happiness, and usefulness. Now, though 
religion is a lofty subject, it is not too lofty for a child. 
The knocker on heaven's gate is so low that a child on 
its knees can reach it. A large portion of the Bible is 
intelligible to children and full of interest for them, 
Joseph, loving his father and brothers, is an example for 
boys ; so is Timothy for his knowledge of Scripture. 
Ruth is an affectionate example for girls ■ so are Mary 
and Martha, and many others. The religious faculty is 
developed early, for out of the mouth of infants God 
perfects praise. It is astonishing how soon they can 
take in arguments, and hold their own in controversy. 
It is said that certain Jesuits were sent among the Wal- 



£8 DULCE DOMUM. 

denses to corrupt their children, but the emissaries re- 
turned with much disappointment and confusion, because 
the children of seven years old were sufficiently instructed 
to encounter the most learned of them all.* Their prac- 
tical struggle with evil also begins early. It is related of 
that brave Indian officer, General Nicholson, that as a 
child he would try to get a blow at the devil.t Mrs. 
Hannah More carried on a great work among the young, 
and it would appear that she influenced them much ; for 
one mere child brought all his father's household to 
family prayers. 

The first duty of children is obedience ; and it should 
be prompt and cheerful. This is described, on the 
authority of Scripture, as well-pleasing to God. It is at 
the same time most beneficial to the child himself, inas- 
much as it enables the character to be moulded without 
agitation and without disturbance. Some children obey 
when they are petted and gratified, but become refractory 
whenever they are restrained or thwarted. This is only 
a fitful compliance, and is not worthy of a higher name. 
One ought not to foster the idea that there is anything 
heroic and self-sacrificing in obedience : it is simply 
a necessary and wholesome duty. This was one of the 
great mistakes of the misguided Madame Roland. She 
gave herself as much credit for an act of obedience, as 
we should do for a sublime effort of the mind. Woe to 
the child that is permitted to disobey, and is never 
allowed to have vexations and disappointments. He 



* " Life of Eliot, Apostle to the North American Indians." 
t Good Words, 1865, p. 621. 



CHILDREN. 89 

has never been properly ballasted for the voyage of life, 
and will be in continual danger of upsetting. 

Children should regard those as their deadly enemies 
who instigate them against a parent. Pope Pascal II. 
wrote to Prince Henry, criminating his father, and ex- 
horting him to aid the Church against him. He also 
absolved the son from his oath of obedience to his father 
Henry IV. The emperor was compelled by that son to 
abdicate the throne, and afterwards died friendless and 
forsaken. ;1< Then there was the case of Thomas Aquinas. 
At the age of thirteen he became a Dominican monk 
contrary to the will of his parents. The monks denied 
his mother access to him, and sent him from one place 
to another to conceal him. Who can doubt but it is 
a false form of religion that would encourage the dismem- 
berment of a family and the violation of the domestic 
affections? 

Children owe to parents an everlasting debt of gra- 
titude and honour ; for first they received life from them ; 
and as that life was feeble and flickering, it was cherished 
against innumerable influences that might have quenched 
the tiny flame. A little neglect and the helpless infant 
would have expired. There are two to whom we can 
never make an adequate return,! but must always live 
and die in their debt; the creditors are God and our 
parents. Especially should this consideration avail with 
those who have had good parents. Think of the mother 
who soothed you on the grief-lulling breast, J who 

* Mosheim, p. 401. Murdock's note. 

f Arist. Eth., viii. 14, 4. 

X Iliad, xxii. 83. This is the argument of Hecuba to her son 



9° DULCE DO MUM. 

watched over you in every ailment ; think of the parents 
who strove to educate you and advance you in life, who 
have gone through innumerable trials for you ; and then 
think of those unhappy children, whose parents have 
sacrificed them to their own selfishness, being unnatural, 
cruel, and brutish. The contrast should excite in you a 
glow of gratitude and a willing obedience, or, if that is 
too late, a loving and reverent memory. One talks of 
making a return with interest, but that is out of the ques- 
tion. It is a great matter if we can compound and pay 
a dividend, well assured that this part-payment will be 
graciously received. It is to be feared that many parents, 
like other disappointed persons, are paid only in hopes* 
Honour to parents should be manifest even in your 
attitudes and gestures towards them, in the mode and 
time of speaking, and in the things you say. You may 
see faults and defects in a parent ; it is your duty not to 
notice them, never to manifest contempt or hatred on 
account of them. Not unnecessary is the caution of 
Ecclesiasticus (III. 13) regarding the treatment of an 
aged father : " If his understanding fail, have patience 
with him ; and despise him not when thou art in thy 
full strength." A parent should be a privileged person. 
James I. was pedantic and pusillanimous, and unreason- 
able. His son Prince Henry, seeing all this, conceived 
disdain for his father, and expressed it. Alluding to Sir 
Walter Raleigh's imprisonment, he used to say, " Sure 



Hector: AaOiKrjdsa [xa^ov. Cf. also Alcestis, 319 : Oubiv fujTpbg 
tvfxtv&GTtpov. 

* Lucian, iii. 249. 



CHILDREN. 91 

no king but my father would keep such a bird in a 
cage." * The saying was dishonouring to his father and 
hurtful to his friend. Probably the metaphor double- 
locked the prison-door. 

Children are to honour their parents because they are 
their parents, and not because they are strong, or rich, or 
wise; but even if they are weak, and poor, and foolish. 
The obligation of filial duty lies in the relationship, not 
in the character. Hence, when the faculties of a parent 
begin to decay, children should be more studiously 
attentive to honour them, in proportion as certain ex- 
ternal motives are disappearing. Real respect is shown 
in consulting them, and, as far as possible, following 
their advice. They have some qualities of the best 
advisers ; they have experience and sincere good-will. 
They advise for your interest as they would for their 
own ; for you are a part of themselves. Then they are 
older and you may yield to them, reverencing, if not 
their arguments, at least their experience ; for the aged 
have the eye of experience by which they see correctly. \ 

The interchange of thought and feeling between young 
and old is very beneficial. The young should read the 
experience of age, and the aged should recall the ex- 
perience of youth. Let the one read backward and the 
other forward. Moreover, the interchange of thought 
and feeling in conversation between young and old is 
very wholesome ; it ripens youth and cheers age. Hear 
Polixenes speaking of his son : — 



* Hume's "History," ch. xlvii. 

f Arist. Eth., vi. 11 : 'E/e ttjq kfi-nrsipiag ofxfia. 



Q2 DULCE DO MUM. 

"He's all ray exercise, my mirth, my matter ; 
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy ; 
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all : 
He makes a July's day short as December ; 
And with his varying childness cures in me 
Thoughts that would thick my blood." * 

There is something pleasing in the perpetuation of 
friendship and its tradition from father to son, Such 
friendships have deep roots, and ratify the judgment and 
taste of those who originated them. " Thine own friend 
and thy father's friend forsake not;" yea, rather strive 
to repair hereditary breaches, if there have been any 
gaps ; for here the initiative is most creditable and 
honourable. On the contrary, he dishonours his father 
who dishonours his father's friend. The Emperor 
Charles V. had an only son, Philip 11./ King of Spain. 
The father, during his later years, was suspected of a 
leaning towards Lutheran principles, certainly on slender 
grounds, and he had a chaplain of that way of thinking. 
The emperor was attended by him in his retreat, and at 
last expired in his arms. What was the conduct of the 
son towards his father's friend ? He threw him into 
prison, where he died ; notwithstanding, he with genuine 
fanatical spite orders the dead man to be tried and con- 
demned for heresy, and his statue to be committed to 
the flames, f He could not have loved the father much, 
loving the friend so little, and the sequel proves it ; for 
he actually deliberated whether he should not exercise 
the like severity against the memory of his father. 



* "A Winter's Tale," i. 2. 

f Hume's " History," ch. xxxix. 



CHILDREN. 93 

Affection to parents is one of the beautiful wild flowers 
springing up in the ruins of human nature; but it needs 
cultivation, and only reaches its true perfection when it 
is bedewed with Divine grace. Still, that it has been 
strong in other than Christian nations cannot be denied. 
It was pre-eminently so among the Chinese, and of their 
feelings Zinghis Khan took an unworthy advantage ; for 
he covered his vanguard with their captive parents. 

How simple and how touching is the metaphor which 
represents a child as the staff of a parent ! The parties 
have by this time changed places, the weak have become 
strong, and the strong have become weak. Nature by 
this change indicates that the young should prop the 
aged. The discharge of this filial duty is the justifica- 
tion of their being born.* But how far filial affection 
transcends duty is seen in the example of the great 
Hooker; for he would often pray that he might never 
live to occasion any sorrow to so good a mother ; and 
he used to say he loved her so dearly, that he would 
endeavour to be good, even as much for hers as for 
his own sake.f 

Your parents share keenly in your honour or disgrace. 
A mother's heart throbs as joyously when she sees her 
son receive the prize as the victor's does. A father 
blushes as deeply when he sees his son in the dock as 
the prisoner does himself. There is a connection be- 
tween parents and children as real as the ligament that 
binds the Siamese twins. A good son is the happi- 

* " Turn demum pretia nascendi retulisse, dignosque patria ac 
parentibus ferunt." — Tacit. Germ., 31. 
f Walton's " Life." 



94 DULCE DO MUM. 

ness of his father, a wild son is the heaviness of his 
mother. Do not let your parents, already weighed down 
with years, labour, and infirmity, be overweighted with 
your misconduct and disgrace. 

People of large experience will probably call to mind 
some son who sacrificed all his prospects to tend an 
afflicted mother, or some daughter who consumed her 
health and beauty at the bedside of honoured parents. 
But such cases are not frequent, and there is little danger 
of filial affection in excess. Virgil celebrates lapis, who 
declined the gifts of archery, music, and augury, and 
instead preferred a knowledge of herbs and medicine, 
that he might prolong his father's life.* 

Now is the time for you children to show your affec- 
tion ; your parents may be taken from you or you from 
them. It is a simple but natural expression of a common 
feeling : — 

" Oh ! if she would but come again, 
I think I'd vex her so no more." 

The penance of Dr. Johnson ought to be known to 
every child. His father, a bookseller in Lichfield, was in 
the habit of setting up a stall for the sale of his wares, 
every market day, in Uttoxeter. On one occasion, con- 
fined to bed by illness, he requested his son Samuel to 
go to the market and attend to the stall, which he 
refused to do. This act of disobedience preyed in after- 
years on the mind of the lexicographer, and in his old 
age, to atone for his juvenile delinquency, he went to 
Uttoxeter one] day, and stood on the site of his father's 

* iEn., xii. 391. 



CHILDREN. 95 

stall for a considerable time, bare-headed in the rain, 
exposed to the jeers of the bystanders.* 

Children may be taken from their parents, and have to 
emigrate to distant lands, while, with oceans and con- 
tinents intervening, the exiles pine to see the face \ once 
too lightly valued ; or, it may be, dying far away leave 
the world without a mother's blessing or a mother's fare- 
well. | 

History has photographed many undutiful children for 
the warning of posterity. Foremost amongst these is 
Tullia, who ordered her muleteer to drive her carriage 
over the dead body of her father as it lay on the road. 
No wonder that the street was called Wicked, no wonder 
that she was driven out of the land and died in exile. 
What a mixture of horror and pity is excited by the story 
of the Marchioness of Brinvilliers ! She nursed and at 
the same time was poisoning her father, while his head 
was resting on her bosom. She kept kissing and poison- 
ing him for eight months. At length, after an agony of 
four days, he expired in her arms, bestowing with his last 
breath a blessing on his murderess. Eventually she was 
arrested and tried. After being put to the torture, she 
made a full confession and was beheaded. The children 
of the Emperor Romanus form a pendant to Tullia and 
the infamous Marchioness. His two sons conspired 
against him, entered his apartment with force, and con- 
veyed him in the dress of a monk to a small island in 



* BoswelPs "Life of Johnson." 

f Td rwv t£kovt(i)v ofifiaQ' rjdi<rTov j3\eTT£iv. — CEd. Tyr. 

I " Inque salutatam linquo." — ^En. ix. 287. 



96 DULCE DOMUM. 

the Propontis. The two conspirators in their turn were 
seized, degraded, and embarked for the same island 
where their father had been lately confined. Old 
Romanus met them on the beach with a sarcastic smile, 
and, after a just reproach of their folly and ingratitude, 
presented them with an equal share of his water and 
vegetable diet* 

Rich men and kings are apt to have the worst children, 
for their riches and power excite the cupidity of impatient 
heirs. This is one of the compensations that should 
moderate envy. Who would not pity Henry II. ? What 
happiness could he have in his rebellious children ? His 
eldest son took up arms against him, but while the young 
prince was so engaged, he was seized with a fever, and 
seeing the approaches of death, he was struck with remorse 
for his undutiful behaviour towards his father. He sent 
for the king, expressing his sorrow, and begging the 
favour of a visit, that he might die forgiven. The father, 
having before experienced his son's treachery, and suspect- 
ing that the illness was feigned, dared not trust himself; 
and thus the son died un visited and unforgiven.f 

This family seems to have been generally disobedient, 
but the revolt of the favourite son, John, formed the 
climax of parental misery. The unhappy father, already 
overloaded with cares and sorrows, finding this last dis- 
appointment in his domestic tenderness, broke out into 
expressions of the utmost despair, cursed the day in 



* Gibbon's "History," ch. xlviii. 

f Hume's " History," ch. ix. This sad story has been already 
considered from the father's standpoint ; now it is fitly contemplated 
from the standpoint of the son. 



CHILDREN. 97 

which he received his miserable being, and bestowed on 
his ungrateful and undutiful children a malediction which 
he never could be prevailed upon to retract. The more 
his heart was disposed to friendship and affection, the 
more he resented the barbarous return which his four 
sons had successively made to his parental care ; and 
this finishing blow, by depriving him of every comfort in 
life, quite broke his spirit, and threw him into a linger- 
ing fever, of which he died. Richard, who went to visit 
the dead body of his father, was struck with horror and 
remorse at the sight. He exclaimed that he had been 
his father's murderer, and he expressed a deep sense, 
though too late, of that undutiful behaviour which had 
brought his father to an untimely grave. 

History reproduced itself in this particular in the per- 
sons of Charles V., Emperor of Germany, and his son, 
Philip. The father, seating himself on the throne for the 
last time, explained to his subjects the reasons of his 
resignation, absolved them from all oaths of allegiance, 
and devolving his authority on Philip, told him that his 
paternal tenderness made him weep when he reflected 
on the burden which he imposed upon him. The son, 
who by his father's voluntary resignation had now 
become master of all the wealth of the new world, and of 
the richest and most extensive dominions in Europe, was 
so ungrateful as to keep his generous parent waiting a 
long time for the payment of the small pension which he 
had reserved.* This filial unkindness wounded him more 
acutely than the desertion of old courtiers. 

* Prescott tries to palliate Philip's guilt, but ineffectually. 
H 



98 DULCE DOMUM. 

Not only ancient heathen and modern kings, but 
even religious, Christian men have had this trial. 
Milton, owing to his infirmities, was peculiarly dependent 
on his family; yet his two elder daughters seem to 
have been destitute of affection and even of pity. His 
will was disputed ; and at the trial a servant gave evi- 
dence that her deceased master had lamented to her the 
ingratitude and cruelty of his children; and it was 
shown that they overreached him in the economy of the 
house, and disposed of his books, often bartering them 
with the hucksters at the door for any trifle they might 
offer. 

By way of pleasing contrast, we will now notice some 
exemplary daughters, who showed exceeding kindness to 
their parents in their distress. When Louis XVI. and 
his consort were in prison, the princesses discharged all 
the duties of menial servants to the king and queen. 
The first Earl of Marchmont was concealed in a church 
vault for a month, and had only for light an open slit. 
His daughter went every night at midnight by herself to 
carry him food, and stayed with him as long as she 
could, so as to get home before day. Often did they 
laugh heartily, in that doleful habitation, at different 
accidents that happened.* If innocent and kind, happy 
even in a vault ! 

As it has been noted that our great religious poet had 
the trial of evil daughters, so our great religious philan- 
thropist had the trial of an abandoned son ; and in this 
case all children may see the anguish and the interruption 

* Burke's "Anecdotes of the Aristocracy," i. 397. 



CHILDREN. 99 

which they can cause to a parent far away and engaged in 
the best of works. Howard had been in the lazaretto at 
Venice (the mother of all lazarettos), and he suffered 
there. He disregarded that, and all his trials and priva- 
tions, and illnesses and journeys, — "but oh, my son, 
my son." One might sympathize more deeply with 
that bitter cry, did not the suspicion arise that the son 
may have been neglected that the prisoner might be 
cared for. 

Thousands who will escape the temptation to vices 
will yet be liable to faults which destroy peace and 
comfort, and sometimes even character and life itself. 
By speaking carelessly, demanding imperatively, making 
irritating noises, saying silly things, not striving to please, 
but trying to be disagreeable — by all these faults 
they can render home very uncomfortable. There is 
also a perverse season of youth, when children seem 
to delight in depreciating their parents, when they are 
apt to get high notions and to despise home. Then there 
is a period of self-will, when they disregard advice and 
consequences, and make the path of life difficult, which 
their parents had pioneered and made easy for them.* 
They lose the friends and forget the advantages, which a 
father's influence had procured for them. 

There is a fault so near a virtue that one would touch 
it gently. It is the want of caution, which is often allied 
to a generous forgetfulness of self. But this is not to be 
commended, yea, rather ought to be earnestly discouraged, 

* ' ' Tibi paterque avusque facilem fecit et planam viam 
Ad quaerundum honorem : tu fecisti, ut difficilis foret." 

Trin., iii. 2, 19. 



ioo DULCE DO MUM. 

because by the Divine laws little faults are often punished 
more severely than great vices. The young delight in 
amusement and in the glow of their enjoyment, whe- 
ther riding, skating or swimming, become incautious, 
and rush, into danger and death. Sometimes the very 
risk gives a zest to the exercise. Let Oxford bear wit- 
ness.* 

In the scanty traces which remain of the childhood 
of Jesus, we can clearly decipher the doctrine of sub- 
ordination : he was subject to his parents. On the 
cross and in the midst of his anguish, his domestic affec- 
tion shines forth in his considerateness for his mother 
— remembering in that excruciating hour to entrust her 
to his best-beloved disciple. That was true to nature, 
and it was heroic. There is nothing unmanly in lov- 
ing and respecting a mother. There was no finer trait 
in the character of Alexander the Great than this. Anti- 
pater once sent him a long letter full of heavy complaints 
against Olympias ; and when he had read it, he said : 
" Antipater knows not that one tear of a mother can blot 
out a thousand such complaints." t 

Epictetus I supposes a son to excuse his disobedience 
on the ground that his father is bad ; and answers that 
nature establishes a relationship between father and 
son, independently of whether they are good or bad. 

* The elegiacs written on the death of Mr. G. W. M. Dasent 
(1872) express a not rare loss and a well-known danger : — 

" Invidus incautum quum vi rapit amnis iniqua 
Et tumidis mersum gurgitis haurit aquis. 
O loca jam nimis infamia." — C. B. S. 

f Pint, in Alex. J C. 30. 



CHILDREN. 101 

This relationship is absolute and indestructible ; still it 
is a right question even for children to consider how 
far they are bound to obey. Obedience is better than 
sacrifice, but conscience is better than obedience. 

Godeschalcus was committed to a monastery by his 
parents while an infant. When he grew up he wished 
to abandon the monastic life ; but he was compelled 
to remain in it on the ground that his father had de- 
voted him to such a life in his childhood, and that no 
human power could vacate the transaction.* In an 
enlightened age such a question would be at once 
solved by the consideration that a man has outgrown 
both the obedience and the clothes of childhood. When 
he comes of age he can dispose of himself according to 
his own judgment. 

Submission even under injury is a high degree of 
filial excellence. The Roman History exhibits Titus 
Manlius Torquatus in this light. His father had banished 
him into the country on account of his dulness, and 
forced him to live among slaves and cattle. The father 
was prosecuted by the Tribune for this severity. Upon 
which the son obtained a secret interview with the 
public prosecutor and threatened him with instant 
death, if he would not forego the charge against his 
father.f 

A very young man had for a long time attended Zeno's 
school. On returning home his father asked him what 
wisdom he had learnt ; and the pedantic son answered 

* Mosheim, "Eccles. Hist.," Cent, ix., part 2, c. ii. Murdock's 
note. 

f Aur. Vict., 98. 



102 DULCE DO MUM. 

that he would show by his conduct. The father was 
angry and struck him, but the son remained quiet and 
patient, only saying, " I have learnt this, to bear a 
father's anger meekly." 

Lady Jane Grey before her execution explained that 
she accepted the crown less through ambition than 
through reverence for her parents, whom she had been 
taught to respect and obey. Her filial piety had betrayed 
her. 

Expostulation is not inconsistent with children's duty. 
Hume tells us of Cromwell's son Richard, that all the 
activity which he discovered, and which never was great, 
was however exerted to beneficent purposes : at the 
king's trial he had fallen on his knees before his father, 
and had conjured him by every tie of duty and humanity 
to spare the life of that monarch. 

Better, however, than expostulation, which is apt to be 
resented as interference, is the force of personal character 
and example. A son may do much to improve home, much 
to soothe a house of strife. He may carry home religion, 
kindness, information and humour, to dissipate the angry 
passions there; and let him not be discouraged, as if the 
undertaking was gigantic and impossible for him with his 
little influence • for even the waters of the mighty ocean 
must to some extent be diluted by the fresh streams flowing 
into them. Still it should never be forgotten that this in- 
fluence is increased by a generally submissive bearing. 
The saintly Edward Bickersteth, as a youth, was not clear 
in his mind as to the propriety of taking dancing 
lessons, but he submitted to learn out of regard to his 
parents. The conduct of Wilberforce after his con - 



CHILDREN. 103 

version was most judicious. His first care was to 
recommend his new opinions by greater kindness in 
domestic life. Strange rumours of his altered habits had 
preceded his arrival, and his mother was prepared to 
mourn over eccentric manners and enthusiastic principles. 
All that she observed was greater kindness and evenness 
of temper. " It may tend," he had written down, before 
he joined her, as a rule for his observance, "to remove 

prejudices of if I am more kind and affectionate than 

ever — consult her more, show respect for her judgment, 
and manifest rather humility in myself than dissatisfaction 
concerning others." His habitual cheerfulness, and the 
patient forbearance of a temper naturally quick, could 
not escape her notice ; and her friend Mrs. Sykes, who 
had shared in her suspicions, remarked shrewdly, when 
they parted company at Scarborough : " If this is madness, 
I hope that he will bite us all." * 

Insubordination is half an insult and half an injury ; it 
is an insult to the superior and an injury to the inferior. 
In after-years the insubordinate remembers his rudeness 
with a pang, and is conscious that he has lost the benefit 
of discipline. At fifteen, St. Augustine was idle and 
vicious, and would not study Greek. If he had been 
more submissive in this particular, he would have 
deprived Winer of the occasion of saying that he 
everywhere betrays a shameful ignorance of that lan- 
guage. 

We receive good from our parents ; we must be con- 
tent to receive inconvenience likewise. It is only fair, if 

* "Life of Wilberforce," i. 118. 



io 4 DULCE DOMUM. 

we have a legacy that we pay the legacy duty. That 
was an excellent adaptation of the golden rule by Iso- 
crates : " Be such to your parents as you would wish 
your children to be to you." When one has read how 
Aurungzebe established his empire by fraud and the 
violation of the domestic affections, we see a just retribu- 
tion in the fact that his sons imitated him in his disobe- 
dience to his father. 

If any curse is ever likely to fall on a devoted head, it 
is the curse of an injured parent against an undutiful 
child. The reward promised to those who honour father 
and mother is, that their days shall be long ; and this 
generally happens, for the character developed by an 
early and submissive life at home is calculated to preserve 
a youth from evils that are destructive to health and 
longevity. As for the undutiful child, the curse pro- 
nounced on Mount Ebal against him that setteth light 
by his father or his mother still hovers around him on his 
path through life, and the character developed by early 
disobedience at home provokes in the world outside 
assault and revenge, quarrels and death. 

The happiness of children depends much upon parents, 
and the happiness of parents depends much upon children. 
A bad child is indeed " an implement of torture," * 
puncturing and lacerating the hearts from which its own 
life's blood is derived. 

It is painful to observe among the poor that an aged 
parent is often cast aside as something refuse, the un- 

* Lady Anne Barnard says that Lord Byron addressed his infant 
in these words : " Oh ! what an implement of torture have I 
acquired in you !" — Times, Sept. 7, 1869. 



CHILDREN. 105 

grateful child not reflecting that his kernel would never 
have ripened but for the shell he throws away. 

Beware of an ungrateful child. He is not to be 
trusted. If he casts off a father, he will cast off a friend, 
a colleague, a wife, if he can. The dutiful son is like 
the— 

" Indian tree, 
Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky 
May tempt its boughs to wander free, 

And shoot and blossom wide and high, 
Far better loves to bend its arms 

Downwards again to that dear earth, 
From which the life that fills and warms 

Its grateful being, first had birth. 
'Tis thus, though wooed by flattering friends 

And fed with fame (if fame it be), 
This heart, my own dear mother, bends 
With love's true instinct back to thee ! " * 

* T.Moore, 



CHAPTER VIII. 

BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

It is a touching thought that those who grow up 
together in childhood, and sit at the same table and at 
the same fireside, may, in after-life, be separated by seas 
and continents, or by the valley of death. This reflec- ( 
tion should tend to make them affectionate and kind to 
one another, so long as they are united under one roof. 

It is indeed a pleasant sight to behold a family dwell- 
ing together in peace, and unity, and gladness. Neither 
the poet nor the painter can describe a happier scene. 
The account of the family at Bethany is very brief, yet 
the glimpse which we have is eminently popular. The 
domestic affections do not occupy a large space in Scrip- 
ture, but the allusions are proportionately valuable. 
St. Paul, for instance, seems so much above the ordinary 
human standard, that it gives one pleasure to find that 
after all he was really a human being, and had a sister. 

The first family does not seem to have been a happy 
one. Cain envies Abel, and slays him. The contests 
between Esau and Jacob began painfully early. Where 
there was so much selfishness, covetousness, and deceit, 
there could have been but small domestic joy. 



BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 107 

Virgil probably gives a sketch of the ideal of a Roman 
sister in his description of Anna.* Dido, disappointed 
and abandoned, has committed suicide ; her sister is 
struck to the heart by the news, tears herself and beats 
her bosom, and rushing through the crowd, calls her 
dying sister by name — exclaims that she is ready to die 
with her. Embracing her in her bosom, she wipes up 
the blood with her robe, and tries with her mouth 
to catch any straggling remains of breath about her 
lips. 

The arrangement of brothers and sisters, of different 
ages and different tastes and unequal powers, and yet 
all closely related, is a providential and admirable 
arrangement. It is nature's school ; it is the discipline 
of the small society preparing for the intercourse of the 
great society. There life-lessons are learnt ; the younger 
looks up to the elder admiringly, and learns submission. 
The elder helps the younger, and learns philanthropy. 
All need to help each other, especially if the family is 
large, and thus become unselfish, for they have constant 
calls upon them, and owing to this healthy exercise, 
cannot subside into the self-love and self-care of an only 
child. 

A striking proof of disinterestedness and brotherly 
affection was given by Archbishop Usher at the age of 
eighteen. Soon after the loss of his father a consider- 
able estate came into his possession. He at once pro- 
ceeded to share it with his brothers and sisters, reserving 
for himself only so much as would maintain him at 

* JEn., iv. 684. 



io8 DULCE DO MUM. 

college, and place at his command a small annual sum 
for the purchase of books.* 

One sees in a family, and, on that account, admits 
more readily the principle of the larger world, that the 
gifts of one member are intended to supply the 
deficiencies of the other members. What brother would 
be worthy of the name, if, while studying with a younger 
brother, he refused to help him in his difficulties, or to 
give a word of kind encouragement ? 

Sometimes the original positions are reversed, and the 
elder comes to serve the younger. In such a case there 
is need of humility and delicacy in the superior, and of 
grace and resignation in the inferior. 

One of the first duties of a brother is an affectionate 
care of sisters ; walking with them, escorting them, pro- 
tecting them, striving to please them, and looking after 
their interests. There is something very touching in the 
grief of King Edward VI. on account of his sister's reli- 
gious errors. He regarded the mass as impious and 
idolatrous. He thought that if he allowed his sister to 
attend it, he would participate in her guilt. When at 
last he was prevailed on to tolerate the rite, he burst into 
tears, lamenting his sister's obstinacy, and bewailing his 
own hard fate, that he must suffer her to continue in 
such an abominable mode of worship. 

The same anxiety which King Edward felt for the best 
interests of his sister was manifested by the amiable Sir 
Philip Sidney for his brother. It was when that chival- 
rous soldier was on his death-bed that he said to his 

* " Life," by Hone, p. 15. 



BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 109 

brother Robert: " Love my memory; cherish my friends. 
Above all, govern your will and affections by the will 
and word of your Creator ; in me beholding the end of 
this world with all her vanities." * A brother or sister has 
no authority unless what is acquired by greater age and 
experience ; and therefore they require to proceed with 
much discretion and tact. They must not be too vehe- 
ment or officious, or importunate, for then the attempt is 
overdone. How prudently Simeon of Cambridge acted, 
when introducing religious influences into the home 
circle, be himself has told us : "I wished to instruct the 
servants, and unite with them in family prayer ; but I 
had no hope that a proposal to that effect would be ac- 
ceded to, either by my father or brother : I therefore 
proposed it to the servants, and established it myself, 
leaving to my brother to join with us or not, as he saw 
good."t Where a brother is pliable and easily influenced 
for good, a more direct method may be adopted. St. 
Andrew was the instrument of leading his more distin- 
guished brother, St. Peter, to Christ. He said to him, 
" We have found the Messias ; " and on the basis of this 
intelligence, he at once "brought him to Jesus." J 

The history of imperial Rome is graced by two 
princely brothers, Maximus and Condianus. Their fra- 
ternal love has saved their names from oblivion, and 
endeared their memory to posterity. Their studies and 
their occupations, their pursuits and their pleasures, were 
still the same. In the enjoyment of a great estate they 

* Motley's " United Netherlands," ii, 57. 
f "Life of Rev. C. Simeon," p. 11. 
X John i. 42. 



no DULCE DOMUM. 

never admitted the idea of a separate interest ; and in 
every action of life it was observed that their two bodies 
were animated by one soul. The kind cruelty of Corn- 
modus united them in death.* 

French history, which is full of grand examples of good 
and evil, has preserved a deeply interesting picture of the 
brothers Arm and and Jules Polignac. A generous con- 
test arose between them as to which had been really 
implicated in a conspiracy, each trying to take the whole 
blame upon himself and to exculpate the other. Armand 
de Polignac first declared publicly that he alone was 
accessory to the conspiracy, and that his brother was 
entirely innocent, and earnestly implored that the stroke 
of justice might fall on him alone. On the following day 
his brother Jules rose and said : "I was too much moved 
yesterday at what my brother said to be able to attend 
to what I was to advance in my own defence ; but to- 
day, when I am more cool, I implore you not to give 
credit to what his generosity prompted him to suggest in 
my behalf. If one of us must perish, I am the guilty 
person. Restore him to his weeping wife ; I have none 
to lament me ; I can brave death. Too young to have 
enjoyed life, how can I regret it ? " " No ! " exclaimed 
Armand, " you have life before you : I alone am the 
guilty person, I alone ought to perish."! 

It is only too easy to find a contrast in the brothers 
Caracalla and Geta. They discovered, almost from their 
infancy, a fixed and implacable antipathy for each other. 



* Gibbon's " History," ch. iv. 

f Alison's " History of Europe," ch. xxxviii. n. 



BROTHERS AND SISTERS. in 

This aversion, confirmed by years and fomented by the 
arts of their interested favourites, broke out in childish 
and gradually in more serious competitions. The pru- 
dent emperor, their father, endeavoured by every expe- 
dient of advice and authority to allay this growing ani- 
mosity. With an impartial hand, he maintained between 
them an exact balance of favour. Yet even this equal 
conduct served only to inflame the contest. In the an- 
guish of a disappointed father, Severus foretold that the 
weaker of his sons would fall a sacrifice to the stronger, 
who in his turn would be ruined by his own vices. They 
made a journey through Gaul and Italy, during which 
they never ate at the same table, or slept in the same 
house, displaying to the provinces the odious spectacle 
of fraternal discord. On their arrival at Rome they 
immediately divided the imperial palace. No commu- 
nication was allowed between their apartments ; the 
doors and passages were diligently fortified, and guards 
posted and relieved with the same strictness as in a 
besieged place. At the instigation of Caracalla, some 
centurions rushed with drawn swords upon the unfortu- 
nate Geta. His distracted mother strove to protect him 
in her arms ; but in the struggle she was wounded in the 
hand, and covered with the blood of her younger son, 
while she saw the elder animating and assisting the fury of 
the assassins. The crime went not unpunished. Neither 
business, nor pleasure, nor flattery could defend Caracalla 
from the stings of a guilty conscience ; and he confessed, 
in the anguish of a tortured mind, that his disordered 
fancy often beheld the angry forms of his father and bro- 
ther, rising into life to threaten and upbraid him. 



112 DULCE DOMUM. . 

The sons of William the Conqueror were at war with 
each other ; but their contest was relieved by a fine act 
of generosity. Prince Henry was besieged in a strong 
fortress on the coast of Normandy ; he was nearly re- 
duced by the scarcity of water, when the elder, hearing of 
his distress, granted him permission to supply himself, and 
also sent him some pipes of wine for his own table. Being 
reproved by his brother William for this ill-timed generosity, 
he replied : " What, shall I suffer my brother to die of 
thirst ? Where shall we find another when he is gone ? " 

Aurungzebe, who in one sense was the last of the great 
Moguls, was one of the most detestable of brothers. 
First of all his policy was to let two of his brothers fight 
and exhaust themselves, and then to play off his third 
brother against the victor. He imprisoned his too con- 
fiding brother, Murad ; and after a struggle of two or 
three years' duration, Dara and Shuja also fell into his 
power, and all three were put to death. Being such a 
brother, one is not surprised to know that he was also 
suspected of accelerating his father's death by poison. 

The great Corsican general was too selfish and unprin- 
cipled to be a good brother. He so far obeyed the im- 
pulse of natural affection that he elevated three brothers 
to European thrones ; but two of them, Louis and Joseph, 
were so mortified by his tyrannical conduct that they re- 
signed their crowns. 

God's purpose in setting brothers and sisters in fami- 
lies is doubtless for their mutual comfort and help. The 
proverb that " a brother is born for adversity " * admits 

* Prov. xvii. 17. 



BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 113 

of a more extensive application, and implies that the 
abler should ever help the weaker.* 

Shakspeare represents King Henry IV. as giving 
excellent advice to his son Thomas, Duke of Clarence. 
After telling him that his elder brother has affection for 
him, he says : — 

" Cherish it, my boy ; 

And noble offices thou mayest effect 

Of mediation, after I am dead, 

Between his greatness and thy other brethren : 

Therefore, omit him not : blunt not his love. 

.... Learn this, Thomas, 

And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends ; 

A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in." f 

In most flocks there is one stray sheep ; in most fami- 
lies one unfortunate child. Now, to lead such a one 
back, and to help the unsuccessful, is the very provision 
of brotherhood; and, being so arranged by God, it 
ought not to be looked upon as a burden, but as the 
duty of relationship and the privilege of superiority. 

One of the sons of Bishop Daniel Wilson went sadly 
astray. He was a good-tempered, cheerful youth, and a 
universal favourite. His amiability made one doubt the 
doctrine of human depravity ; but at college he formed 
loose habits, and fell into bad company. He was sent to 
the Continent, and after staying at several places, he 
settled at Bagneres-en-Bigorre, in the Pyrenees. There 
he was seized with his fatal illness, suffering from five 
large and deep abscesses. His father was in India, but 



* Family permanence, as seen in great firms, may be in some 
measure owing to a brotherly and clannish affinity, 
f 2 Henry IV., iv. 4. 

I 



ii4 DULCE DOMUM. 

his brother hastened over, and reached the sick-bed 
after a journey of a thousand miles. " Oh, my dear, 
dear brother ! " was the first exclamation ; " that you 
should have come this long way' to see your poor dying 
brother ! Let me look at you ! You will stay with me 
and pray with me? Tell my father that I die a true 
penitent." * 

It was a murderer who uttered the notorious words, 
"Am I my brother's keeper?" t and no doubt their in- 
famous authorship has destroyed their currency ; but 
though men would be ashamed to quote the words, it is 
to be feared that they often cherish the sentiment. We 
should strive to eradicate this weed by every means, and 
especially by the consideration, " He is our brother and 
our flesh." J He is the child of our father and mother ; § 
therefore his claim is of the very strongest. You must 
yourselves neither ill-use him nor see him ill-used by 
others, nor leave him in distress and misery, lest " thy 
brother should seem vile unto thee." 

A readiness to detect a mote in a brother's or sister's 
eye, — a habit of cherishing hard thoughts against them, — 
the outrage of speaking against thine own mother's child, 
— an inflammable disposition, which gets angry with 
them, either without a cause or with a very small one, — 
all these are indications of a want of real family love. 
Fault-finding and quarrelling, vanity and conceited com- 
parisons, ill-natured remarks, should all be carefully 
avoided ; for they give offence, and the offence rankles 

* " Life of Bishop Daniel Wilson," by Bateman, i. 105-8. 
f Gen. iv. 9. % Gen. xxxvii. 27. 

§ T6<5' ovxi Kktirrkov. — Soph. Phil., p. 57. 



BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 115 

in the memory for ever. Very difficult are they to be 
eradicated and supplanted by right affections. A brother 
offended is harder to be won than a strong city — 
(Prov. xviii. 19) ; and their contentions are like the bars 
of a castle. 

One who has a low idea of domestic affinity will soon 
be wearied out, wishing his pensioner to die, and fancy- 
ing that the poor recipient is immortal. Prince Ernest, 
Archbishop of Liege, is described as a hanger-on of his 
brother, who sought to shake him off. Human nature is 
the same in peasants as in princes, and most persons 
must be conscious of the tendency to shake off the poor 
dependent. 

The wisdom of mutual help and care for each other is 
manifest from this consideration, that if one turns out 
bad he may bring misery and disgrace on the whole 
family. " We have not had one hour's peace in our 
home for many years, since our sister took to evil 
courses : it hastened my father's death." This was the 
lamentation of a sister of high intelligence and character. 

Ingratitude, always black, is doubly black in a brother. 
Richard I. was profusely kind to his brother John. He 
procured for him a rich marriage, gave him a large pen- 
sion, bestowed on him a French county, put him in 
possession of eight castles, and delivered over to him no 
less than six earldoms. John forgot all this, betrayed his 
brother, and made a treaty with the French king, of 
which the object was the ruin of his generous brother. 

There is a danger of envy and jealousy in unmarried 
sisters. Courtney, Earl of Devon, was encouraged to 
pay his addresses to the Princess Mary, daughter of 



n6 DULCE DOMUM. 

Henry VIII., but the earl seemed rather to attach him- 
self to the Lady Elizabeth. This preference caused 
Mary to break out in a declared animosity against Eliza- 
beth ; her pride was excited, and her resentment knew 
no bounds ; she treated her with great harshness and 
with studied disrespect, gave her an inferior place at 
Court, and at length committed her to the Tower. 

Even at Bethany this unpleasant feeling seems to have 
crept in. There does appear a little suppressed jealousy 
in Martha's complaint : — " Lord, dost thou not care that 
my sister hath left me to serve alone ? bid her therefore 
that she help me." * 

The emulation of sisters is apt to pass into their 
married life ; for at home they have been brought up on 
an equality and have had all things the same, and there- 
fore they are apt to fancy that equal conditions should 
continue. The simple narratives of Scripture do not 
disguise that Rachel envied her sister for having children, 
when she herself had none. 

There is something so sacred about the name of sister 
that it is deplorable when her influence is exercised for 
evil. There is, however, a degrading instance of this in 
English history. The French king sent over the Duchess 
of Orleans to her brother Charles II., bringing a French 
mistress as a gift and a bait to the voluptuous king. By 
her artifices and caresses she prevailed on her brother to 
relinquish the most settled maxims of honour and policy, 
and to co-operate for the destruction of Holland, as well 
as for the subsequent change of religion in England. 

* Luke x. 40. 



BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 117 

Sometimes a sister is apt to neglect her brothers. 
Now whenever she becomes conscious of this tendency, 
she should strive and pray against it. She should take 
a greater interest in them and their pursuits, and do 
them all kinds of obliging services. The task is sweet 
for a brother.* When there is masculine wilfulness and 
waywardness, she may also wisely for a time give way to 
them. Then will they recognise the value of a sister, 
and profit by her refined love. Her influence also will 
be gentle and lasting, giving sweet impulses to the best 
and noblest pursuits. 

Our Saviour is graciously represented to us as our 
elder brother ; and surely He, who exhorted all men to 
love one another, would be especially well pleased to see 
brothers and sisters of one mind in a house, and loving 
each other by natural as well as spiritual piety. 

Brotherly love is one of the purest and most amiable 
affections, and happily it is not rare in this country. 
One often sees it extending beyond the grave. Out of 
the fulness of this affection a great English sculptor 
raised a monument to his brother at Rome, and wished 
to inscribe this text : — " I thank my God upon every 
remembrance of thee ;" but the Roman censor interdicted 
the verse in behalf of a religion, which has often been 
antagonistic to the domestic affections. 

To cultivate the love of brother and sister is one way 
of requiting parents. The departed ones looking down 
from heaven, and seeing one of their children helping 

* iSov to SovXtVfi' rfdi), kovk avaivofiai 
a§k\<f adtXtyy x H 9 c Ospaireveiv fikXr]. 

— Eurip. Orest., 221. 



u8 DULCE DO MUM. 

the others, might be supposed to say, " Ye have done it 
unto us." 

The good brother will make a good husband and a 
good father. The good sister will make a good wife and 
a good mother : — 

" Oh, she that hath a heart of that fine frame, 
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft 
Hath killed the flock of all affections else 
That live in her."* 

* "Twelfth Night," i. i. 



CHAPTER IX. 

MASTERS AND MISTRESSES. 

Our relative positions are from God. Whether one is a 
master or a servant is arranged by Him ; and the excel- 
lence does not lie in the position, but in the way we 
adorn the position. 

Superior and inferior stations are for this world, and 
are therefore temporary. The conditions of life may in 
many cases be reversed hereafter, so that the first shall 
be last, and the last shall be first. 

In this view there is something foolish and pitiable in 
an overbearing man. Wilberforce has this entry in his 
diary : " At the levee, and then dined at Pitt's — sort 
of Cabinet dinner — was often thinking that pompous 
Thurlow and elegant Carmarthen would soon appear 
in the same row with the poor fellow who waited behind 
their chairs." * A kindred reflection may have occurred 
to one standing beside the skeleton of some imperious 
and supercilious master, and he may have been tempted 
into an apostrophe : " Poor skeleton ! I dare not touch 
thee, lest thou topple into pieces. Yet thou wert once 

* " Life of Wilberforce," i. 98. 



120 DULCE DO MUM. 

a man, rejoicing in thy strength and swaggering in the 
pride of life ! I must not touch thee, and yet thou 
touchest me." 

Some of the greatest men have been good masters. 
Such was Saladin. While the descendants of Seljuk and 
Zenghi held his stirrup and smoothed his garments, he 
was affable and patient with the meanest of his servants. 

The ancient tyranny exercised over servants, who 
were indeed slaves, is happily no precedent for our 
times. Of a master who never forgave, the orders wert 
seldom disobeyed. The diligence of the multitude was 
quickened by the eye of a despot, whose smile was the 
hope of fortune, and whose frown was the messenger 
of death.* But would any generous mind wish for such 
obedience — the obedience of terror, the obedience ob- 
tained by assuming power unduly, and depriving fellow- 
creatures of property, liberty, and even life itself? Far 
better is the limited obedience which comes from volun- 
tary engagement and the hope of a reward blended with 
personal attachment. For, after all, the ancient slave 
must have been an anxious possession. " It is requisite," 
says Aristotle, " that masters should rise before their 
slaves and go to rest later, and that a house, like a city, 
should never be left unguarded ; and what ought to be 
done should be omitted neither by day nor by night." t 

The author of Ecclesiasticus was not much in advance 
of heathen ideas on this question : " Bread, correction, 
and work, are for a servant." Then he gives a recipe 
for an evil servant : " Tortures and torments and in- 

* Gibbon's "History," ch. lxviii. f Arist, Econ., i. 6. 



MASTERS AND MISTRESSES. 121 

creasingly heavy fetters." But self-interest comes in 
to mitigate this regimen, and bethinking himself that 
the slave is so much money, he adds, " If thou have 
a servant, let him be unto thee as thyself, because thou 
hast bought him with a price.* 

It is wonderful how God always provides some cor- 
rective to counteract a mischievous tendency. The idea 
that a slave was property was bad ; but the fact acted as 
a salutary restraint upon tyrannical treatment. This 
explains the humiliating fact, that a slave-owner often 
takes more care of his slave, and a farmer often takes more 
care of his horse, than a master takes of his servant. In 
such cases pecuniary interest is stronger than human 
sympathy. These Hebrew counsels were very bad in- 
deed ; still there was one of them not so objectionable. 
The writer prescribes work, and certainly it is most 
desirable for all classes, servants included, that they 
should be fully occupied. In some religious families the 
servants have extremely little to do on Sundays, and for 
hours are unemployed. These are hours of idleness, and 
are often consumed in gossiping, looking out of windows, 
peering into cabinets and rummaging drawers. A con- 
siderate master or mistress may turn this weekly leisure 
to good account by reading to their servants or per- 
mitting them to attend Bible classes as well as church. 
The religious supervision may, however, be carried to 
excess, and then it becomes inquisitorial and oppressive. 
History has recorded the case of one Reingault. He was 
a temporary convert from Romanism, and affected great 

* Ecclus. xxxiii. 30. 



122 DULCE DOMUM. 

zeal for the Calvinistic religion. He would employ no 
man or maid-servant in his household until their religious 
principles had been thoroughly examined by one or two 
clergymen. He was one of those who, according to 
a Flemish proverb, are wont to hang their piety on the 
bell-rope.* But without this extravagance, there was a 
good custom in old times for masters to take an interest 
in their servants and to instruct them in religion, as being 
members of a Christian household. 

It is a providential compensation also, that servants 
are sometimes better, wiser, and happier than their mas- 
ters and mistresses. How much judgment, delicacy, 
devotion, and gratitude do some servants possess, while 
their employers make themselves notorious for folly, self- 
ishness, and extravagance ! However, these are excep- 
tional cases and dare not be calculated upon. The 
likelihood is that they will ape the follies and imitate 
the vices of the heads of the house ; for we are all power- 
fully influenced by example ; and this is especially 
natural in inferiors, f 

James Ferguson, a self-taught astronomer, relates a 
pleasant incident of his early life. At night he used to 
study the stars, and he kept the sheep by day. He 
made mechanical models of mills, and measured the 
distance of the stars by means of a thread with beads on 
it. " My master," he adds, " at first laughed at me ; but 
when I explained my meaning to him, he encouraged me 
to go on j and that I might make fair copies in the day- 

* Motley's ' ' United Netherlands," ii. 68. 

t " Quid istuc tam mirum, si de te exemplum capit ?" — Andria, 
iv. i, 27. 



MASTERS AND MISTRESSES. 123 

time of what I had done in the night, he often worked 
for me himself." * 

The sphere of the mistress is not recognised in the 
New Testament. St. Paul addresses himself to the 
masters ; for the mistresses he has not a word to say. 
Probably in that unchanging East, the precept would 
have been identical with that of the angel who gave the 
direction to Hagar : " Return to thy mistress, and submit 
thyself under her hands." f She was to go back to the 
mistress who had dealt hardly with her, and from whom 
she had been obliged to flee, and having returned she 
was to yield an unlimited submission. 

Employers should study their servants' welfare, not 
only in regard to religion, but in regard to health, food, 
recreation, and exposure to injurious influences, moral 
and physical — in a word, treating them as if they were 
their own. This will encourage servants, in whom there 
is any little spark of good ; and nothing is more helpful 
than encouragement. As other people become worse 
when they get nothing by being better, and when no 
rewards are given, so it is with servants. % 

The late-hour system has not yet been abolished, 
Man goeth forth to his work and to his labour until the 
evening; but many of young and tender years are de- 
tained in shops and warehouses till past the evening, 
While others return home, these victims of the late-hour 
system are pining behind counters, like birds that in the 
migration time fret against the bars of the aviary, in- 



* " The Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties," p. 199. 
f Gen. xvi. + Arist. Econ., i. 5. 



124 DULCE DOMUM. 

stinctively striving to join the flock of their fellows that 
are winging their way to sunnier climes. 

However rude and insolent servants may be, masters 
and mistresses will do well not to engage in any mean 
encounter with them. In unequal controversies the 
superior runs the greatest risk, suffers most from pub- 
licity, and is most held in remembrance ; it may be, with 
some insulting slur attached to his name. The inferior, 
restrained by fewer considerations, and bent only on 
vengeance, can accuse, vilify, and even destroy a more 
sensitive mind. Just so the weasel, that is borne aloft 
into the air in the eagle's talons, can give a death-wound 
to its noble adversary, even in his own element. 

Neither the master nor the mistress must despise ser- 
vants, nor allow their children to despise them. Yet 
this is frequently done ; but most inconsistently. For 
those supercilious people first of all treat them with 
disdain, and then to hear them talk you might infer 
that a servant should be faultless. But how any one 
can be at the same time despicable and perfect is 
difficult to understand. 

It would seem that there was in one respect a greater 
danger of familiarity with slaves than with servants. 
Many of the slaves had been born in the house, and 
these were generally spoiled by indulgence. They were 
frequently called knights (equites) out of fondness. Un- 
questionably, familiarity is most perilous with domestics. 
It is well known how dearly Madame de Warens paid 
for her intimacy with Rousseau, who at one period of 
his life was in her service. As is the master, so is 
the servant; if the one is familiar, the other will be 






MASTERS AND MISTRESSES. 125 

presumptuous. Then it is that servants rule ; then it is 
that a master becomes lower than a servant ; for he is in 
the power of his servant.* The history of Theodore 
Hook's servant illustrates very well the growth of fami- 
liarity: " For the first three years a good servant, for the 
next two a kind friend, and afterwards an abominably 
bad master." \ 

It is politic to conceal a partiality, even where a 
preference is felt ; never to threaten, though sometimes 
to promise ; rather to request than to command ; and 
a prudent governor will not find fault the last thing at 
night, nor the first thing in the morning. 

Perhaps no position of superiority is so often abused 
as that of master and mistress. It is so easily attainable, 
even by the unworthy and unqualified. How few use it, 
as Joshua did, for good ! His motto should never become 
old-fashioned : " As for me and my house, we will serve 
the Lord." { 

While striving to exercise a wholesome restraint over 
those under our care and control, we must beware of 
gliding into tyranny. We may defraud a servant of 
liberty partially, as the ancients did entirely. This 
would be unjust. The better way is, if a servant cannot 
be retained in loyalty and goodness without constant 
watching and constraint, to part peaceably ; unless, as 
sometimes happens, the servant desires restraint for her 
own safety. 

The Sunday outing is one of the difficult problems 

* " O toties servus !" — Hor. Sat., 2, 7, 70. 
f "Life of Rev. R. H. Barham," p. 154. 
% Joshua xxiv. 15. 



126 DULCE DOMUM. 

with which domestic life abounds ; and it is one which 
careless people do not strive to solve; but leave it to 
work out itself, right or wrong. But would they permit 
their own daughters to go out, no one knows where, 
and to stay till late at night? Selfish regard would 
anxiously forbid in the one case, what apathy easily 
sanctions in the other. No doubt multitudes of servants 
are ruined for want of a little friendly vigilance and 
judicious influence on the part of those who would 
repudiate their responsibility by a new version of the 
old question, " Am I my servant's keeper ? " 

A favourite topic of ridicule in society and books 
is servant-girlism. Of course they have their faults and 
extravagances ; but then so have their employers, only 
of a different kind. Horace has a pleasant poem, in 
which he allows his slave Davus on a holiday to point 
out the master's faults. The mistress who gave her 
servant such a permission, would be surprised to hear 
how much a maid could say for herself. It is ^Esop's 
old fable of the sculptor representing a man strangling 
a lion. " Let us be the sculptors," said the king of 
beasts, " and for one lion under the feet of a man, you 
shall have twenty men under the paw of a lion." If 
servants were literary, they could publish amusing 
volumes of life above-stairs.* 

For instance, at the coronation of George III. some 
of the peeresses were so fond of their robes, that they 
exhibited themselves for the whole day preceding, to all 

* One who knew the world well describes a servant saying : 
"Nous y rimes bien aux depens de nos maitres, comme cela se 
pratique entre valets." — Le Sage. 



MASTERS AND MISTRESSES. 127 

the company their servants could invite to see them. 
What would servants think of such mistresses, or of such 
a master as the Marquis Wellesley, who would sit in his 
own room for hours with no other spectator than what he 
saw reflected in the mirror, dressed in full costume, and 
decorated with the blue ribbon of the Garter, as if 
meant to appear at a royal levee ? 

Servants resemble the little wheels in a machine : the 
machine cannot go right if they go wrong ; and in the 
same way the well-being of domestics is essential to the 
well-being of the family. To carry on this image 
farther : those who have most difficulty with servants 
would be surprised to find how smoothly and easily 
the family machine works when oiled with fellow- 
feeling. 

But this fellow-feeling will not exude from the proud. 
They would scarcely admit that they were the same flesh 
and blood with servants. There is no doubt a retribution 
for the disdain and apathy exhibited towards this class 
and their relations. There are communications between 
the meanest and the most exclusive families, so that a 
servant from the centaurian mews may bring small-pox 
into aristocratic mansions. Even those who ought to 
know better speak very offensively of this useful class. 
Bishop Andrews, in his " Devotions," speaks of Sunday 
as a merciful cessation to servants and beasts, our fellow- 
labourers. Much more humane was the conduct of 
the generous sailor Nelson, when the surgeon quitted 
the seamen, whose wounds he was dressing, to attend 
to the admiral. " No," said he, " I will take my turn 
with my brave fellows." His great French contem- 



128 DULCE DOMUM. 

porary also knew the value of such condescension, and 
thus became the man of the people : " In my campaigns 
I used to go to the lines in the bivouacs, sit down 
with the meanest soldier, converse, laugh, and joke 
with him." * None but a very great man, indeed, can 
stoop so far without loss of self-respect and loss of 
honour. Shaking hands with servants, and addressing 
them by name, is a form of humility justly suspected. f 
But persons of high and unimpeachable character may 
do many things which others cannot do. 

Visiting sick servants, to read and pray with them, is 
an idea peculiarly Christian ; and yet there was the germ 
of this kindly attention in the old heathenism. Xeno- 
phon, in his charming dialogue between, a young husband 
and his wife, represents the bridegroom saying : " One of 
your duties, however, will perhaps appear somewhat dis- 
agreeable ; namely, that whoever of all the servants may 
fall sick, you must take charge of him that he may be 
recovered." The wife responds : " Nay, assuredly, that 
will be a most agreeable office, if such as receive good 
treatment are likely to make a grateful return, and to be- 
come more attached to me than before." % Whoever 
shall write the life of Queen Victoria., will be guilty of a 
great omission, if he does not record how that royal lady 
visited the sick groom at Sandringham during a dangerous 

* Alison's "Europe," ii. 252. 

f The great master of corruption knew this, when he wrote : — 

" Nomine quemque suo (nulla est jactura) saluta : 
Junge tuis humiles, ambitiose, manus." 

Ovid. Art. Am., ii. 253. 

♦ Xenoph. CEcon., vii. 37, 38. 



MASTERS AND MISTRESSES. 129 

illness. Such an outcoming of Christian humanity 
excites more respect than the grand ceremonials of 
state. 

Doubtless, many employers who have been disposed 
to act generously towards their domestics, have been dis- 
couraged by ingratitude ; but this is really no good ground 
for being "weary in well-doing." We ourselves have 
been ungrateful servants of God, and yet He is never 
weary of doing us good. The probability is that some 
will be grateful, and that all will be the better for kind- 
ness ; that they will be disposed to learn and improve, 
and so become more useful and valuable servants. Thus, 
in a way, you will be repaid. 

The Creator has made many animals terrible by their 
means of defence, by their horns, claws, odour, and even 
electric shock. Servants have not been left destitute of 
weapons for retaliation. They can allow the honour of 
the house to be sullied by vindictive taciturnity; or, 
they can injure the family by an evil-speaking tongue, 
partly true and partly false. 

Bacon said feelingly : " Discreet followers and servants 
help much to reputation." * He may have been too much 
influenced by this opinion, and have bought their good 
word too dearly; for his indulgence to servants had 
involved him in necessities ; and in order to supply 
his prodigality, he had been tempted to take bribes, by 
the title of presents, and that in a very open manner, from 
suitors in Chancery. 



* "Omnis fama a domesticis emanat." — Essays: "Of Honoi 
and Reputation." 

K 



130 DULCE DO MUM. 

One who has been well served ought not to be ungrate- 
ful, and although such obligations may not be generally 
recognised, yet a generous mind will feel a pleasure in 
discharging them. This feeling prompts many masters 
and mistresses to befriend servants in after-life. 

Visits from old servants are gratifying occurrences, 
testifying, as they do, that they had left on friendly terms 
and felt assured of a welcome. Such small events are 
among the minor pleasures, constantly overlooked by 
the high-minded, who, eager in the disappointing pursuit 
of great things, never learn how much joy can be ex- 
tracted from the little things of domestic life. 

" Only a servant" is an exclamation too often heard ; 
but it might be retorted, Which of us is not ? The 
wicked are servants of evil, and the good are servants of 
God. These have a Master in heaven, those have many 
masters on earth. 

Servants are capable of grateful affection. Wolsey's 
servants wept abundantly at his fall. Mary Queen of 
Scots and her servants wept together in sympathy at the 
last farewell ; * and happily Obituary Notices often dis- 
close the fact that a family had hired a servant and found 
her a friend, and having lost her by death, for the sake of 
respect and honour, published their loss to the world. 

The old Scottish domestic servant was a mixture of 
affectionate attachment and quaint familiarity, character- 
istic of the kindly Scot. Dean Ramsay gives an account 
of an old servant, who had been all her life in the house 

* Xpjjcrroio'i SovXoig %vfj.<popa to. StcnroTiJJv 
KUKOIQ tt'itvovto. KCll (pptvuiv avQaTTTtTai. 

Eur. Med., 54. 



MASTERS AND MISTRESSES. 131 

— for she came to it a child, and lived without ever leav- 
ing it, till she died in it, seventy-five years of age. When 
on her death-bed, her old master hobbled to her room 
with difficulty to bid her farewell ; and on that occasion 
she made her last request : " Laird," said she, " will you 
tell them to bury me where I'll lie across at your feet."* 

* " Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character," p. 80. 



CHAPTER X. 

SERVANTS. 

Servants, though in an inferior position, can console 
themselves with the fact that they are indispensable, and 
that the greatest aristocrats cannot say : I have no need 
of you. They hold as real and as useful a place in 
society as those in more exalted stations, and they have 
fewer anxieties and fewer responsibilities, and many 
compensations to make their life tolerable and comfort- 
able.* 

The Lord Jesus Christ ennobled service, for He came 
not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his 
life in the service of humanity. The angels imitate the 
God-man, and one of their glorious number claimed to be 
our fellow-servant, f 

The lowest condition of life does not disqualify us from 
producing graces and excellences. The meanest may 



* Some may smile, but to my mind the minuteness of Providence 
is seen in arranging compensations for inferiors. Take the case of 
mirth, so important for health and enjoyment. Servants and that 
class laugh easier and oftener than the refined ; and this makes up 
for their less extensive sources of joy. 

f Rev. xix. 10. 



SERVANTS. 133 

be a mirror of God ; even a pool can reflect the glorious 
sun. 

How can we explain the great gulf between masters 
and servants in ancient times? No doubt in war the 
prisoners were often spared in order that they might be- 
come servants. These captives would probably be treated 
with insult in remembrance of their former hostility, and 
they would probably be chained and mutilated as a 
means of detention. Under these circumstances their 
spirits would be crushed, and they would be apt to 
degenerate into natural slaves. This helps us to under- 
stand how Aristotle could speak of a slave as an animated 
tool, and a tool as an inanimate slave ; and how he could 
declare that there is no friendship or justice towards in- 
animate things, neither towards a horse, nor an ox, nor 
towards a slave.* If an enlightened philosopher could 
thus write calmly, the practical treatment of slaves must 
have been very bad. One fact is enough. The power of 
life and death over the slaves was for a long time in 
private hands. 

Christianity has done much to take the sting out of 
service ; and especially by furnishing a new motive. The 
work is to be done not so much as it were to men, but 
as if to the Lord. It is not to be done so much for the 
master or the mistress or the wages, as for the Supreme 
Master, who assigns us our place and our duty in life. 

This high motive, while it soothes the irritation of in- 
feriority, increases the sense of responsibility, and makes 
a servant more anxious to further the interests of em- 

* Arist. Eth., viii. 11, 6. 



134 DULCE DOMUM. 

ployers, and to guard against their damage and loss. She 
feels that if she is not careful, the house may be burned ; 
or if she is not vigilant, it may be robbed ; or if she is lax, 
the children may be corrupted ; or if she is wasteful, the 
family may be embarrassed. 

This sensitive feeling of responsibility makes an 
esteemed and valued servant, and produces this further 
effect, that many employers who do not prize religion 
for themselves, are yet constrained to prize it in their 
servants. 

It is the duty of all Christians to adorn the Gospel, 
which they profess. Servants have a great opportunity 
of doing this in the household. When a servant becomes 
truly converted by God's Spirit, the change must be mani- 
fest and impressive. There was the case of Onesimus : 
his former character was summed up in the one word 
unprofitable; but immediately on conversion he became 
profitable* No less interested is the degree, to which 
this change ennobled him. He was no more as a servant, 
but above a servant, a brother beloved. 

Among the servants of the Bible none holds a more 
distinguished place than Joseph. His master recognised 
in him the value of religion ; for he saw that God was 
with him, and made all that he did to prosper in his hand. 
Hence he placed entire confidence in him, and knew 
nothing of his affairs " save the bread which he did eat." 
This servant, who had been faithful in a few things, was 
accounted worthy to have charge of many things, and 
eventually became governor of Egypt. 

* A servant being asked to give a proof of her conversion said : 
" I sweep under the mats now." 



SERVANTS. 135 

St. Paul compresses a volume of meaning into a verse : 
" Servants, obey in all things your masters according to 
the flesh ; not with eyeservice, as men pleasers ; but in 
singleness of heart, fearing God." * That expressive word 
eyeservice brands the ostentatious worker, but the Chris- 
tian servant can furnish a striking contrast by doing his 
work heartily as unto the Lord, without any spectators, 
and yet knowing that his eye is always upon him, measur- 
ing at a glance the amount and the manner, and the 
motive of his work. 

Of course, when entire obedience is enjoined, it is not 
meant that there are no exceptions. Sometimes dis- 
obedience is necessary for the servant and salutary for 
the master. Gibbon tells us of the Emperor Michael III., 
that, in his midnight revels, when his passions were in- 
flamed with wine, he was provoked to issue the most 
sanguinary commands ; and, if any feelings of humanity 
were left, he was reduced, with the return of sense, to 
approve the salutary disobedience of his servants. 

Mechanical obedience is a senseless virtue, and may 
often be dangerous and costly. Witness the following in- 
stance : The cardinals came to the door of Bessarian to 
offer him the chair of St. Peter ; but the conclavist 
refused to interrupt his -master's studies. " Nicholas," 
said he, "thy respect has cost thee a hat and me the 
tiara." 

St. Paul lays down another rule : " Exhort servants to 
please their masters well in all things • not answering 
again." f It is of course a great excellence in a servant 

* Col. iii. 22. f Tit. ii. 9. 



136 DULCE DOMUM. 

to please, and very requisite in the little details of 
domestic life, where small things cause annoyance. At 
the same time this habit of pleasing may easily be carried 
too far : some servants for their own selfish ends humour 
their employers, — 

" smooth every passion 

That in the natures of their lords rebels ; 
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods 
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 
With every gale and vary of their masters, 
Knowing nought, like dogs, but following." * 

Four prime qualities in servants are early rising, clean- 
liness, diligence, and method. A want of early rising 
would hinder them ; a want of cleanliness would render 
them odious ; a want of diligence would accumulate 
arrears ; and a want of method would render their dili- 
gence unavailing. 

Selfishness especially makes bad servants, for it is their 
essential duty to think of others, and to minister to 
others : — 

" Some there are 
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, 
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves ; 
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, 
Do well thrive by them."f 

Another danger is that of disclosing an employer's 
affairs, or, in its grosser form, talebearing. In a less 
civilised state of society this sometimes proved a very 
dangerous propensity. In the time of Edward VI., the 

* "Lear," ii. 2. f "Othello," i. 1. 



SERVANTS. 137 

Duke of Northumberland was the deadly rival of the 
Duke of Somerset. He secretly gained many of the 
friends and servants of that unhappy nobleman. The 
unguarded Somerset often broke out into menacing ex- 
pressions against Northumberland ; at other times he 
formed rash projects, which he immediately abandoned. 
His treacherous confidants carried to his enemy every 
passionate word which dropped from him, and at length 
these tale-bearers brought the duke to the scaffold. 
Prudent servants, who wish to diminish their opportu- 
nities of being mischievous in this way, should abstain 
from looking into papers and letters not their own ; 
and should avoid listening to conversation not in- 
tended for them ; because secrets are repeated, not always 
from malice, but from inability to retain, or from desire 
to astonish. 

Some servants unscrupulously use their employers' time 
and materials. The maid who spends hours in writing 
letters seems to forget that her time is not her own, but 
belongs to the master, who pays for it. A secretary or 
manager is often required to devote his whole time to his 
work, and why not a servant as well ? 

Some do a thing badly, on purpose that they may not 
be asked to do it again. This evasion is not only uncon- 
scientious, but it is bad policy. The effect at the time 
may be that the inconvenience is patiently borne, or 
that another is employed to do the work, but all this goes 
to increase dislike to the shirker, and to make the sorrow 
very small at parting ; for such a servant leaves no oblig- 
ing remembrances behind. 

Some dwell upon the inconveniences and disagreeables 



138 DULCE DOMUM. 

of their situation, while they forget the advantages and 
comforts. It may be there is some restraint upon out- 
ings. This hindrance is dwelt upon and exaggerated till 
it comes to seem a mighty thing and occupies the whole 
mental vision, so that for the time all other comforts and 
privileges are not even noticed. 

It would be a more grateful and a more beneficial 
exercise to reflect on the advantages of service in general. 
A home, food and wages, all secured without anxiety and 
without uncertainty ; a position of usefulness, and in the 
case of the younger servants an opportunity of improve- 
ment, which doubles * and trebles their value. A girl 
ignorant and inefficient goes into a situation, and is 
trained to be a cook or housekeeper; and becomes 
handy, accomplished, trustworthy, and of the highest 
value. Is not this something to esteem and be grate- 
ful for ? Is it not a real benefit ? 

The economy with which some servants manage, 
sparing as if it were their own property, is above all 
praise; but the daintiness and extravagance of others 
proclaim loudly that they are not dealing with their own. 
And when one observes such fastidiousness and waste, 
he cannot help foreseeing, when these domestic servants 
are married and have children and trials, and are humbled 
by suffering, how gladly they would take what they for- 
merly disdained, and eagerly save what they formerly 
wasted. The distress of servants in their married life is 
only too common. It is then that faithful services in the 



* 'Ottotciv .... £7ri<JTri[i,ova 7roi7)<ryq, Kai dnrXaaiov aoi a£,ia 
yevrjTai. — Xenoph. CEcon., vii. 41. 



SER VANTS. 139 

past are recognised by generous families, and bring 
advantages that were never anticipated. 

Lord Bacon was ruined by the rapacity and extrava- 
gance in which he permitted his servants to indulge. One 
day when he entered his house, his costly domestics rose 
up and saluted him, to whom he said bitterly : " Sit down, 
my masters, your rise has been my fall." 

Many dangers come to servants from their own per- 
sonal vanity. This leads to unsuitable dress, to aping 
superiors, and to facility in receiving questionable atten- 
tions. 

• St. Paul gave a suitable caution to the servants of his time, 
who unhappily were slaves. The Gospel elevated them, 
and placed them on a spiritual level with their masters. 
The danger then was that these Christian slaves would 
presume upon this elevation, and despise their masters as 
being only " brethren." There is a similar danger still. 
It is that servants may take advantage of the kindness, 
and humility, and meekness of a good master or mistress. 

Rats are said to leave the sinking ship, and it is not 
doubtful how servants will act, whose only bonds are 
wages. But many have other ties — gratitude, sympathy, 
affection ; and these excellences sparkle in the time of 
trouble. Gibbon relates a romantic story which is a 
parable for servants in all time. At the sack of Carthage 
in the fifth century, Maria, the daughter of the magni- 
ficent Endomon, was purchased from the Vandals by 
some merchants of Syria, who afterwards sold her as 
a slave in their native country. A female attendant, 
transported in the same ship, and sold in the same family, 
still continued to respect a mistress whom fortune had 



Ho DULCE DOMUM. 

reduced to the common level of servitude ; and the lady 
received from her grateful affection, the domestic services 
which she had once required from her obedience.* 

But those who look for and receive nothing but what 
is legal, do not cultivate the generous : — 

" That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain, 
And follows but for form, 
Will pack, when it begins to rain, 
And leave thee in the storm." f 

No doubt a great deal depends on the employers as 
well. Where they have been harsh, unfeeling and over- 
bearing, what right have they to expect sympathy in 
a reverse? 

Wolsey, with all his faults, seems to have been a kind 
and considerate master. When the cardinal was in dis- 
grace, Thomas Cromwell, one of his old servants, who 
had been raised by him from a very low station, defended 
his unfortunate patron with such spirit, generosity and 
courage, as acquired him great honour, and laid the 
foundation of that favour which he afterwards enjoyed 
with the king. 

A good servant should strive to be as one of the family 
and should act so as to be prized. A sad episode in 
King David's life is relieved by a beautiful glimpse of 
domestic pity and consideration. The servants see their 
royal master overwhelmed with grief while his child lay 
dying. At length its infant spirit departed. Then the 

* Camoens, the great epic poet of Portugal, was left in such 
poverty, that a faithful Indian servant begged in the streets of 
Lisbon for the support of his master. 

f " Lear," ii. 4. 



SERVANTS. 141 

servants of David feared to tell him that the child was 
dead ; for they said, " Behold, while the child was yet 
alive, we spake unto him, and he would not hearken 
unto our voice : how will he then vex himself, if we tell 
him that the child is dead ? " What a graphic chapter of 
the Old Testament arises from the mission of Abraham's 
servant to procure a wife for Isaac ! This old domestic is 
more of a confidential friend. All his master's goods are 
in his hand. He has such a deep interest in the family that 
he will not eat till he has told his errand ; and when he 
has performed his commission, he refuses a hospitable in- 
vitation to stay, and responds to kind entreaties with the 
words : " Hinder me not." All this zeal and interest is 
sustained by deep religious feeling, and a constant recog- 
nition of the leading hand of God. How simple and 
how appropriate is this servant's prayer : " Show kindness 
unto my master Abraham ! " Every one knows the charm- 
ing story of Naaman's little maid. The tiny captive 
had been stolen from the land of Israel, and now waits 
on Naaman's wife. She sees that her master is a leper 
and she pities him. Then she gives utterance to the kind 
wish : " Would God my lord were with the prophet that 
is in Samaria ! for he would recover him of his leprosy." 
Her words are repeated from the mistress to the captain, 
from the captain to the king ; and then follows the 
journey to Elisha, and the healing in Jordan. On that 
occasion there arose a most instructive instance of remon- 
strance on the part of the servants. Naaman had thought 
the means prescribed by Elisha paltry and inadequate. 
So he turned and went away in a rage. Then his servants 
came near and said, " My father, if the prophet had bid 



i 4 2 DULCE DOMUM. 

thee do some great thing, would est thou not have done 
it ? How much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash, 
and be clean ? " The remonstrance was wise and respect- 
ful ; and it was successful. 

What a servant may do has been now and then regis- 
tered by history, generally too dignified and unwise to 
record domestic events. In the seventeenth century the 
French were carrying on war against the Netherlands. 
Fourteen stragglers of the army having appeared before the 
gates of Muyden, the magistrates sent them the keys ; but 
a servant-maid, who was alone in the castle, having raised 
the drawbridge, kept them from taking possession of that 
fortress. The magistrates afterwards, finding the party so 
weak, made them drunk and took the keys from them. 
The importance of this check may be estimated from the 
fact that Muyden is near to Amsterdam, and that its 
cannon can infest the ships that enter that great city. 

In material civilisation we have enormously improved 
upon the past. It may be doubted whether we have 
made a corresponding advance in all social relations. 
Here is a servant of the olden times, not likely to 
be often reproduced. A noble youth named Attalus was 
reduced from being a hostage to a slave, and was set to 
keep his master's horses. Offers of ransom being sternly 
rejected, his deliverance was effected by the hardy stra- 
tagem of Leo, a slave of his grandfather's. An unknown 
agent easily introduced him into the same family, 
where Leo was purchased as being an excellent cook. 
The dexterous Leo insensibly acquired the trust and 
management of the whole household. After the patient 
expectation of a whole year, he cautiously whispered 



SER VANTS. 143 

his design to Attalus, and exhorted him to prepare to 
flee on the ensuing night. The intrepid slave at mid- 
night silently drew the fleetest horses from the stable; 
unbarred the ponderous gates ; and excited Attalus to 
save his life and liberty by incessant diligence. They 
both escaped in safety. The grandfather embraced 
Attalus with tears of joy, gratefully delivered Leo, with 
his whole family, from the yoke of servitude, and bestowed 
on him a farm where he might end his days in happiness 
and freedom. 

We are apt to speak with a sort of compassionate con- 
tempt of heathens, and yet there are pious servants 
among them. Lady Duff Gordon, in her letters from 
Egypt, writes, that when she was ill she heard her servant 
Omar outside her door praying, " O God, make her 
better," " Oh, may God let her sleep," as naturally as we 
should say, " I hope she will have a good night." * This 
carries us back to the fields of Bethlehem, when the 
farmer Boaz approached his reapers with the salutation, 
" The Lord be with you ; " and they answered, " The 
Lord bless thee." 

Some servants have exercised a very prejudicial influ- 
ence. They have scared infants by stories of ghosts and 
goblins, and have made them nervous and superstitious 
all their life long. A more enlightened class of nurses, 
by a simple and happy piety, have influenced their young 
charges most beneficially. The spectacle of a truly 
religious servant is sublime, because her interest is above 
earth and the earthly, and she seeks only the spiritual 

* P. 78. 



144 DULCE DO MUM. 

welfare of those committed to her care. This explains 
the influence and authority which even an illiterate 
Christian has, when in earnest. 

Servants are often like Martha, cumbered about much 
serving ; and their religion suffers in consequence, unless 
they are alive to the danger and strive against it. If not, 
they will find by experience how the little cares of life 
drive away the noble anxieties of the soul ; how the gnats 
drive away the lions. 

The following words of advice are offered in the kind- 
liest spirit to all engaged in domestic service : — 

i. Do not flatter and spoil the children. 

2. Do not tyrannize over them. 

3. Be a peacemaker among the other servants. 

4. Beware of acquaintances and friends that are self- 
introduced. 

5. Do not misspend holidays, and employ to your ruin 
that which is set apart for innocent recreation and im- 
provement. 

6. On Sundays go to the house of God and worship 
Him. If you devote the hours of the Lord's day to 
pleasuring, you forfeit the Great Master's blessing. 

A servant who acts according to these principles will, 
both in life and death, be " most highly valued and deeply 
lamented." * It is a fine trait of the grand impartiality 
of the Bible that it chronicles the death of Deborah, 
Rebekah's nurse, and tells us that she was buried beneath 
Bethel under an oak : and the name of it was called 
Allonbachuth, "the oak of weeping." 

* Not infrequent notice of a servant's death in the newspapers . 



CHAPTER XI. 



RELIGION. 



Religion is that instinct of human nature which feels 
that there is a God, and that He ought to be worshipped, 
and that his laws ought to be obeyed. It is as much 
an essential part of our nature as memory or hope. It 
will never die out. Not all the fires of revolution could 
consume, nor could torrents of blood quench the religious 
principle. 

The amount of religious feeling in the world is regu- 
lated as exactly as the rainfall, or the force of the wind. 
Scandals prevent the excess and are the ne nimis of God. 
On the other hand, we may be well assured that though 
iniquity abounds, religion will never be neutralised. 
The million tons of fresh water poured daily into the 
sea do not take away its saltness. Atheists fancy that 
religion depends on some human craft ; and it was appa- 
rently on this hypothesis that St. Andre threatened a 
Vendean peasant : " I will have all your steeples pulled 
down, that you may no longer have any objects by 
which you may be reminded of your old superstitions." 
The answer was conclusive : " You cannot help leaving 

L 



146 DULCE DO MUM. 

us the stars, and we can see them farther off than our 
steeples."* 

It is with the religious feelings and all their modifica- 
tions as it is with the structure of insects, not easily 
understood by reason of their minuteness and the minute- 
ness of their parts. Our emotions are often so subtle, 
so ethereal and refined, that they elude the naked eye of 
common sense and demand the scrutiny of an illumi- 
nated philosophy. 

Natural religion is the basis of revealed religion, and 
its potent auxiliary. There is no place where its voice 
is not heard. Nature has many preachers upon whom a 
bishop's hand has never passed. The lark — does not 
he preach joy? The bee — does not he preach dili- 
gence ? The ant — does not he preach providence ? 
The dog — does not he preach fidelity? These were 
ordained by God. Nature's preachers have been limited 
to the recommendation of morality, but morality is 
always enhanced in value when it is enamelled with 
religion. 

With regard to spiritual things, there are degrees of 
light. A man devoid of natural religion is in the dark ; 
a man partially illumined is in the twilight ; and a man 
full of the Holy Spirit is in the daylight. 

God comes to us with mercy,- laying aside his awful 



* An American author relates an interview with Ewald. The 
great German scholar complained that the Bible was not studied 
freely. He said : " The more you study it, and the more freely, 
the more excellent it appears. He laughed about men fearing for 
religion, lest it failed." — " Life of Theodore Parker," i. 218. 



RELIGION. 147 

majesty, as Hector put off the helmet which terrified his 
child. This manifestation is made to us through Christ — 
the greatest theoretical and practical teacher of religion. 
His life was spotless, without sin ; his words were full of 
wisdom and understanding. If a cathedral were to fall and 
bury in its ruins many saints, or if a senate-house should 
fall and bury in its ruins many statesmen, they would not 
cover one-millionth part so much of piety or wisdom 
as the God-man's grave has covered. It is not strange, 
therefore, and it is not uncommon to hear infidels speak 
well of the gospel of Christ. The world has been so 
filled with the odour of the evangelic ointment that the 
very wasps have been allured by its fragrance ; and even 
bad men give their secret suffrage ; and, as it were, vote 
by ballot in favour of the Gospel. 

His religion was eminently sober and compatible with 
the duties and business and life of the world. Now the 
sober differs from the fanatic Christian as the stratified 
differs from the unstratined rock. The one is the result 
of a regular and orderly formation ; the other has been 
molten with volcanic fire. At the same time it may be 
observed that while it is wise to avoid a wild and 
unhealthy fanaticism, sobriety is not free from danger, 
for it often passes into apathy, and in certain high places 
it is fashionable to exclude all feeling and affection in 
religion. A humble, homely man is far more susceptible 
of Divine influence than a fastidious man of the world, 
just as the grass and the leaves are drenched with dew, 
while a piece of polished metal lying on the same spot 
will be almost dry. 

The advantages of religion are incalculable. It points 



148 DULCE DO MUM. 

us at once to the source of happiness, whereas without 
the lamp of religion men search for it where it is not 
to be found, as if for fish in the forest, or fruit in 
the sea. 

Religion makes a man more valuable in whatever 
relation or position of life he may be placed. He is far 
more valuable than he seems on the outside ; he is like 
Sycee silver, which contains a large admixture of gold. 
Even in the most unlikely callings of the army and navy 
religion makes men more valorous, as well as more 
devout. " Allow them to pray to God, they will not 
fight the worse for it." 

Religion gives .a man a purpose in life, and teaches 
him the discipline of self-control. How many drift along 
the streams of custom, or inclination, or in the canals of 
fashion and artificial life without having a mind of their 
own ! They never experience one of the highest plea- 
sures — the pleasure of self-control. Shall a pilot have 
pleasure in controlling a ship, and a rider have pleasure 
in controlling a horse, and a man have no pleasure in 
controlling his own Divine spirit? How gloriously a 
man steers who is consistently and uniformly religious ! 
But if he is now under the influence of passion, and then 
under the influence of piety, and again under the 
influence of unbelief, he will find himself as unmanage- 
able as that Dutch monster-ship with three helms that 
would neither sail nor steer. 

Religion helps us to understand God's dealings by 
interpreting the purposes of God. It is most difficult to 
perform an operation upon an infant, because it under- 
stands neither its own disease nor our object; and so it 



RELIGION. 149 

is with ignorant * persons. God's dealings are to them 
dark and obscure, and they cannot appreciate his bene- 
volent chastisement. With the enlightened it is other- 
wise. They know that discipline is a ladder, and every 
step a sorrow, and that, mounting it, they will at length 
arrive at joy. 

True religion produces a calm trust in the Divine 
government. It is pleasant and faith-nourishing to be 
on the outlook for what the ocean of Providence may 
cast ashore for us ; and when the tide brings anything, to 
receive it thankfully before the next wave sweeps it 
away. This trust, in turn, produces gratitude, reverence, 
and affection ; and we may be as really attached to God 
by these nervous filaments as by the hard tendons of 
dogmatic articles. This trust is fostered still more by 
considering the steadfastness of God. He is eminently 
constant in his goodness. If he were capricious, how 
rapidly he could annihilate every creature, every insect, 
and every animal — all men and angels; yea, even the 
archangel of the heavens. 

Religion deals with men fundamentally. Its purpose 
is, in the first instance, to regenerate, and then to renew 
day by day. A man's body is being continually changed 
and renovated, so that in the course of a few years 
he may actually have a new and better body (and this 
may be intended in the case of the sickly as a compensa- 



* Sir F. B. Head, in his " Faggot of French Sticks " (i. 241), 
gives an account of a huckster who had laid out his stall on a fete- 
day. By and by came on a shower of rain. " I thought that the 
good God was just; but," he added, covering over his gingerbread 
with a cloth, " he is not just at all." 



150 DULCE DO MUM. 

tion for the inheritance of infirmity). In the same way 
the inward man is renewed day by day. These renova- 
tions are not only parallel to each other, but they influ- 
ence each other. For instance, one might speak not 
only of the spirituality, but of the hygiene of prayer. It 
is one of the very best instruments for giving the mind a 
good tone. It calms its excitement, elevates its depres- 
sion, and expands its narrowness. Then the mind in a 
healthy state reacts on the body, and strengthens it. 

Some writers * have misapprehended the duty of prais- 
ing God, as if praise were nauseous to any intelligent 
mind ; but a thankful acknowledgment of his goodness, 
and an express appreciation of his character, are rational 
acts of devotion most befitting in creatures to offer and 
not unworthy of a Creator to accept. Suppose God to 
create, all in a moment, some being of high intelligence 
and of great capacities, conscious of the infinite enjoy- 
ments to which he had been born, what would be the 
first and instinctive act of this new-created being ? To 
worship and adore. And according to Scripture, God 
not only accepts, but rewards the grateful ; for when we 
send a remittance of thanks to him, he dispatches a new 
cargo of blessings to us. 

Those who talk slightingly of Christianity can have 
but a very imperfect knowledge of what this form of 
religion has done for us nationally and individually. In 
the old times men misinterpreted their afflictions, and 
fancied that they were hated by the gods.t When a 



* e.g. Shaftesbury in his " Characteristics." 

f Helen is represented by Euripides as ttjv 9toTg aTvyovfisvijv. — 



RELIGION. 151 

man of so comprehensive and vigorous a mind as 
Alexander the Great was harassed by superstitions, and 
distressed by unusual events,* how great must have been 
the misery of ordinary men ! If we contemplate the 
sketch of the ancient Britons made by Julius Caesar, we 
behold our ancestors painted barbarians, living on milk 
and flesh ; clothed in skins, and using brass or iron rings 
for money.f If we glance at the ancient Germans, we 
find that they paid reverence to a sacred grove, and that 
no person entered it without being bound with a chain, \ 
an unconscious but forcible symbolof the bondage of 
superstition. We now enjoy an enlightened and refined 
civilisation. We all have a truer and happier idea of 
God. Superstition flees before the light, and the chain 
is struck off from the worshipper. To what is this 
change owing? Not perhaps to any one cause; but 
principally to the Scriptures. " There liveth in them a 
mighty God, and He never waxeth old ; " § and by this 
operation men have advanced and are advancing. 

Next must' be recognised Science, another gift of God, 
illuminating the minds of all men, and helping us to pre- 
sent to the Creator an offering of scientific and enlight- 
ened praise. Great have been the national benefits, but 
equally great have been the individual benefits. It has 
taught each one that he has an immortal spirit, it has 



Orestes, v. 19. CEdipus applies to himself the sad epithet Ix^P ' 
Saifiwv. — O. Tyr., v. 816. 

* Plut. in Alex., c. lxxv. — ovdev i\v fwcpbv ovtwq twv arfiwv icai 
dr()7r(jjv, per] rspag €7touTto Kai <tt][jihov. 

i Caesar, Gal. Bel., v. 12 — 14. % Tacit. Germ., 39. 

§ (Ed. Tyr., 871. 



152 DULCE DOMUM. 

taught him to be a friend to himself, it has taught him 
the art of enjoyment,* it has taught him a higher life, 
for the life of a modern Englishman surpasses the life of 
an ancient Briton as much as the life of the animal that 
breathes by lungs surpasses the life that it once breathed 
by gills. Christianity exalts and dignifies a man, and 
gives ' him a noble bearing, as if a glorious angel had 
hired his body for a while. Last of all, Christianity is 
the grandest instance of the little overcoming the great.! 
It drove all the gods out of the Pantheon, and claimed 
the world for the only living and true God. 

The hindrances and difficulties in the way of religion 
are great in proportion to its exceeding excellence. 
Hence many pretend to it, for they think it easier to 
seem than to be religious. Hence by many religion is 
worn as a token of respectability and a mere epaulet of 
character ; hence also so many would be safe rather than 
holy. Many love Jesus Christ the Saviour who do not 
love Jesus Christ the righteous. They love the office 
more than they love the character. It is on the same 
principle — the assumed easiness of an outward religion 
— that so many are satisfied with superficial amendment ; 
but there is no religious change, unless there be a change 
of mind. The serpent moults and casts its skin, and is 
a serpent still. 

Even where religion is genuine, it is exposed to dis- 
ease and deterioration. The growth of covetousness 
will stifle prayer. The man who once freely breathed 



* Hor. Ep., i. 4, 7 — "artemque fruendi." 
f CEd. Col., 880 — yb floaxvc vucq, fxkyav. 



RELIGION. 153 

his wishes up to heaven, and prayed with fluency, after a 
while finds that he cannot pray ; a golden tubercle has 
formed upon his lungs. The paths of meditation and 
prayer become neglected ; and though he may fancy that 
the omission of his religious exercises is unknown to all, 
yet the symptoms of neglect are evident to friends. The 
spider weaves his lines across the unfrequented walk, and 
though they may be airy and attenuated yet they tell a 
tale. 

The distractions of the world prevent thousands from 
being religious. You may just have received the intelli- 
gence of a battle which decides the fate of nations ; and 
whilst you are reading and studying this great event, you 
are distracted by the earnestness of a child calling atten- 
tion to her toys. From a greater and better battle does 
the world seek to distract you and divert you to toys as 
frivolous and more wicked. 

Some find fault with the conditions of life, and blame 
the arrangements of God. " Ah/' says the complainer, 
" if God had sent an angel to admonish me of my sin, 
and to predict its consequences, I would never have 
committed it." Foolish man ! what is Scripture but God 
speaking by the mouth of prophets and apostles, de- 
scribing the guilt and the consequences of sin? "He 
that hath ears to hear let him hear." 

It cannot be doubted but religion has been greatly 
disparaged by our unhappy divisions. At one time 
ridicule and severity were regarded as appropriate 
towards lunatics ; now compassion and consideration 
regulate their treatment. May not one predict from this 
fact that there will be a change of feeling towards the 



154 DULCE DOMUM. 

unorthodox and the fallen? and will not they become 
objects of friendliness rather than of hostility ? Human 
belief is influenced by circumstances rather than by 
arguments, by sympathies rather than by evidences.* 

Many intellectual dreams, which were scouted and 
derided in their time, have after all been realised by a 
wiser generation. Perhaps the dream of united Church 
and Nonconformity may yet come true. Of course, if 
each is rigid and unyielding, no compact of co-operation 
can be concluded, for two straight lines cannot enclose a 
space ; but if they were to incline they could embrace 
the world. There are bitter antagonists on both sides, 
whose interest and prejudice denounce concession ; but 
they should not forget to resume the mathematical 
figure, that it is as true in religion as in geometry, if two 
straight lines cut one another, the opposite angles are 
equal. Now there are angles of responsibility as well as 
of space. 

The reunion of Christendom is also a dream still 
farther off from fulfilment. The different Christian 
churches are not sympathetic, not even tolerant. Often 
they act as rivals, and their rivalry is symbolized by two 
bishops on the same side, moving on different coloured 
lines of the chess-board, and therefore not protecting 
one another. 

St. Peter laid down the principle of toleration long 
before William the Silent, long before Jeremy Taylor, 
long before Cromwell. " Of a truth I perceive that God 

* This was seen in the Tichborne case, that drama for the world, 
which taught a universal lesson on the credulity of mankind, and the 
flimsy grounds on which men even of high character believe. 



RELIGION. 155 

is no respecter of persons ; but in every nation he that 
feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with 
him." This is a noble declaration from an apostle, and, 
as they would say at the Vatican, from a Pope. No 
doubt there are generous minds on both sides, who 
deplore the dogmatic gulf, and who would gladly unite 
if they could on the Petrine basis of a common godliness 
and a common righteousness.* 

The backslider is a great stumbling-block, and a word 
by the way to him. Consider what injury your mis- 
conduct does to Christianity; consider how you put 
Christ to an open shame ; consider what an insoluble 
stain is left on your character, and what a malicious 
gratification you afford to your enemies and the enemies 
of God. Or if you are successful in covering your sin, 
yet consider what a discomfort there is in always con- 
cealing. How humiliating to be engaged in secret 
burials every day; yet always trembling lest some up- 
heaving of Providence should disinter the skeletons of 
past sins. It is no doubt possible that you may be saved 
at last ; you may trudge on, halting and footsore, in the 
way to heaven, and be admitted with difficulty through 
the door ajar ; whereas if you had been true to the grace 
given unto you, you might have marched under triumphal 



* Such a one approximately was the late Archbishop Darboy of 
Paris. When asked to permit Protestant bibles and other books to 
be sold, and Protestant lectures to be delivered at the Great Exhibi- 
tion, he joyfully consented, declaring that, though he could not 
accept Protestant doctrines, anything would be welcome which 
would rouse the Parisians from their pagan state and teach them 
the immortality of the soul. 



156 DULCE DO MUM. 

arches, and had the gates of heaven thrown wide open 
to receive you as more than conqueror through 
Christ. 

The religious feeling is liable to many morbid develop- 
ments ; it is especially liable to gloom and depression. 
It is apt to think that all is sinful, and that there is 
nothing but sin. Certainly it is a heresy, which would 
forbid us to see any good in ourselves, and charges us to 
bring all our qualities under one sweeping impeachment ; 
which would make us brood over an ebullition of anger, 
but forbids us to remember a gush of love ; which would 
exhort us to gaze on the dark side of character, but 
deter us from glancing at its sunny side. A man cannot 
know himself unless he knows what is good in him as 
well as what is bad. To know the one without the other 
is only to know himself half. There is no harm in 
knowing what is good in us, be it spiritual, intellectual, 
or physical. The danger is in looking at these good 
qualities as ours, and forgetting that they come from 
above. A man may rejoice when he discovers anything 
good in himself, but he should take care that such 
rejoicing is the parent of praise and thanksgiving. A 
healthy religion is a cheerful religion, and a happy 
Christian not only does good to himself but to Chris- 
tianity ; for he recommends it by the joy of his coun- 
tenance. Surely a man's religion is weakly, if it is 
inadequate to light up his face with smiles. Those who 
are always sad do not recommend their religion, and 
those who are crabbed discredit the service of the Most 
High ; and especially they prejudice religion when they 
come from their devotions looking sharp and sour, as if 



RELIGION. 157 

they had been tasting some acid dish.* A Christian 
should regard himself as a painter, for he has the power 
of exhibiting the Gospel either beautiful or repulsive, 
either as a portrait or as a caricature. 

Some say, and more think : " I will do it and repent 
afterwards." They fancy that by an after act of penitence 
they can make a bastard deed legitimate. This is the 
sophistry of trusting to an easier future, which we 
generally call procrastination, and which is indeed one 
of the greatest impediments in religion. So many intend 
to become religious at some future time, and this intention 
quiets their conscience and deceives them. They wrong 
themselves and God. They are not comfortable, but 
they anticipate that they will be at some future time. 
Why not be happy now ? Besides, they defraud their 
Lord and Master of the best part of their life. He asks 
the wheat, and they give him the chaff; he asks the 
wine, and they give him the lees; he asks the honey, 
and they give him the wax; he asks the gold, and 
they give him the dross. He asks the best of their 
life and the most, they give him the least and the 
worst. 

Procrastinators leave heaven to a throw of the dice 
and gamble for eternity. Oh ! if they only knew how 
many chances are against them, and what a risk they run, 
and what a mistake they make. How greatly Judas 
miscalculated when he valued the ointment at so much 
and Jesus at so little ! Such persons also trifle with God 
and his Word. They embrace the promises and dis- 

* B\£7rwj/ vTcorpi/jifxa. — Aristoph. Eccles., 291. 



158 DULCE DO MUM. 

regard the threatenings of Scripture, forgetting that the 
life-preserver is also a life-destroyer. 

Moreover, this trifling and familiarity with Scripture 
leads eventually to dissent from it ; and it is, indeed, a 
sad case with a man when Jesus Christ and he differ j 
when our Lord enters a habit in the catalogue of the 
vices, whereas the other votes it among the virtues. 
Then it will be seen with how much coolness a sinner 
ignores that part of the Gospel which thwarts his inclina- 
tion. What glutton believes in fasting? 

Mere moral teaching has not any injurious quality in 
itself; but, because it wants the oxygen of grace, it is as 
fatal to spiritual as nitrogen is to animal life. What has 
given such vitality to Christianity and produced such 
noble developments of religion has been the influence of 
the Holy Spirit ; and this influence is not only a revela- 
tion, but it is a power. It not only reveals, but it 
enables us to overcome the evil that is in us. This was 
the great defect of the ancient philosophy; it had no 
enabling power. A man may read Seneca in order to 
subdue his passions by philosophy, but he will find that 
hose too small for so great and fierce a fire. 

The weak are victims, for just as the aphis and other 
insects alight upon the sickly trees and shrubs, so the 
spirit of evil makes havoc on weak and wavering Chris- 
tians ; but it is a sign that our religion is in a healthy 
state, when we are steadfast, and when the fear of God 
is superior to the fear of man. Doubtless many are 
kept back from religion and the profession of religion, 
not by reason, but by ridicule. We ought to be able to 
bear a little raillery, and we ought to be sufficiently 



RELIGION. 159 

enlightened to know that criticism and ventilation are 
alike wholesome. The one cools the overheated mind, 
the other the overheated body. At the same time we 
must guard against that pseudo-humility which accepts 
every criticism and follows every advice. 

Profession is a very inadequate test of religion. The 
unspiritual Christian is an every-day phenomenon. He 
is conversant with spiritual things without being spiritual, 
just as a fish swims in salt water without being salt — 
steeped in the brine it still is fresh. This condition, in 
which reverence and feeling disappear, is very apt to 
arise in a religion of externals ; and to how great an 
extent it may go was seen in the mediaeval Humours of 
Easter. The preachers, in order to commemorate this 
festive season joyfully, tried to excite laughter. One 
preacher imitated the cuckoo, another hissed like a 
goose, and a third recounted the tricks of the Apostle 
Peter ; how, at an inn, he cheated the host by not paying 
his reckoning. By this time the salt had lost its savour. 

The wants of the soul are too deep to be satisfied with 
religious forms, or with religious comedies. Spiritual 
wants ought to be met by spiritual remedies. The soul 
is so vast that it can only be filled with all the fulness 
of God ; and he who endeavours to disperse spiritual 
anxiety by music and incense is as unwise as the 
mediaeval Christians, who thought to allay the thunder- 
storm by ringing the church bells. 

Would that one could say a word strong enough 
against the uncandid judging of Christianity. Thou- 
sands decide without examination against the Gospel 
because they dislike the severity of its aspect. That is a 



160 DULCE DO MUM. 

wrong which must be righted ; and doubtless Death, the 
apparitor of the Supreme Court above, will serve a rule 
upon these unjust judges, compelling them to show cause 
why they have so slovenly conducted the most solemn of 
all inquiries. 

It is not enough to inquire ; one must inquire rightly— 
with proper motives and in a proper spirit. The anxious 
inquirer is the type of religious investigation in Britain, 
the audacious inquirer in Germany, but the calm, free, 
and reverent inquirer is the beau-ideal. It is not, how- 
ever, meant to disparage the earnest question, What 
must I do to be saved ? Some, who cannot appreciate 
spiritual anxiety, ridicule this inquiry. The same vulgar 
minds, not comprehending the seriousness of a palsied 
face, turn it into a matter of mirth and laughter. Neither 
paralysis nor penitence are things to be jeered at. 

What a poor, pitiful, and irrational substitute is hero- 
worship for Divine worship ! Men adore Handel, who 
was but a spark from that universal God whom they 
adore not. Herein is seen the littleness and the puerility 
of ungodliness in admiring the creature and ignoring the 
Creator ; and then its improvidence is seen in its want 
of provision for the future. How reprehensible to rest 
satisfied with a vague hope that, however we live, all 
will be right at last — to deposit the immortal soul in a 
nest of mud, which the first heavy rain of affliction will 
melt and wash away. 

There is a healthy and there is a morbid scepticism. 
The scepticism which examines and judges reverently is 
healthy because it enlightens. It is the unenlightened 
who are beset by doubts and fears, the insects of the 



RELIGION. ibi 

twilight ; but the others have knowledge, and knowledge 
is the fire-fly that devours the mosquitoes of superstition 
and terror. It is unwise to run away from doubts and 
difficulties. The ignis fatuus pursues the man that flees 
from it in fright. It is still more unwise to discourage, 
to denounce, to punish inquiry.* The scepticism, how- 
ever, which delights in doubts and magnifies them, and 
loves to dwell upon them, is decidedly morbid. If we 
were always thinking of animalculae we could drink no 
water ; and if we were always brooding over the discre- 
pancies of Scripture we could not enjoy the sacred 
volume. 

It is the privilege of survivors to be present at the 
post-mortem of previous scepticism, and then many 
wonderful and pitiful facts come to light. As, for 
instance, one was divorced from his Bible on the false 
testimony of a geological hypothesis. When he died the 
perjury was discovered; but it was too late to reunite 
what ought never to have been sundered. 

It is dangerous to refuse to believe whatever has not 
come within the limits of our own experience and obser- 
vation. The natives of St. Helena had never seen ice, 
and could not be persuaded that it was water till they 
saw it melted. t Their unbelief showed narrowness ; and 



* "And blind Authority, beating with his staff 
The child that might have led him." 

— Wordsworth's Prelude. Residence at Cambridge, v. 203. I am 
indebted for this reference to the kindness of Sir John Duke Cole- 
ridge. 

f O'Meara's "Napoleon in Exile," i. 91. 



1 62 DULCE DO MUM. 

these two states of feeling co-exist more frequently than 
we might suppose. 

No one should deceive himself by fancying that unbelief 
is a sign of intellectual power. It may be, and often is, 
simply the tendency of a corrupt nature, which loves the 
evil and hates the good ; and therefore it is spontaneous 
and cheap. It requires a powerful and a costly machinery 
to support and spread religion, whereas evil needs no 
endowments ; it propagates without patronage. The 
egg of scepticism needs no nest ; it can be hatched on a 
bare rock. 

Leaving the unbeliever and turning towards the Chris- 
tian, it is to be observed that if any one wishes to 
advance in religion he must earnestly seek to be taught 
of God. The bee, with its Divine instinct, at once finds 
out the tiny reservoirs of nectar in the flowers, where the 
naturalist with his microscope discovers nothing ; and if 
God give thee his Spirit thou wilt find honey in many a 
verse where Gesenius with his Hebrew found none. It is 
not enough to have a Bible. One must also have Divine 
illumination. Of what use is a compass to a traveller 
in the dark? 

We see only a small part of the complex machinery 
by which the government of the universe is carried on, 
and therefore we cannot comprehend why God permits 
so much evil and perversity to exist. The Barbarian, 
who compresses the head ; the Sophist, who perverts the 
intellect; the Romanist, who misteaches the Gospel; 
and the Heathen, who perverted the conscience, repre- 
senting revenge and robbery as honourable, show that 
God in his wisdom permits men to go wrong physically, 



RELIGION. 163 

morally, and intellectually. For reasons at first sight 
inscrutable He allows religious men to fall into sin, so 
that the disciple of Jesus is open to the taunt : Your 
Christianity does not preserve you from faults and sins. 
But any sincere Christian may reply : If it has not pre- 
served me from all, yet it has from many; and it 
would have preserved me from more, if I had had more 
of it. 

There are two ways of regarding sin in believers. 
When you see a Christian disfigured by some sin, do not 
say, Behold the efficacy of the Gospel in this broken vessel ; 
but say, How much worse and more wicked that man would 
have been, had it not been for the measure of God's grace 
which he has, small though it be. Besides, the scoffer 
should be reminded that he is guilty of inaccuracy, for it 
is not religion that corrupts, but the man ; just as water 
itself does not putrefy ; it is the animal and vegetable 
matter in it that decomposes. 

Besides, the imperfections of the saints serve for the 
encouragement of smaller men. We may thank God for 
the spots upon the moon, for the prevarications of Abra- 
ham, and the falsehood of Jacob, for the crime of David, 
and the impiety of Peter. We must have despaired had 
not these hoped. 

We must admit, then, to the heartless scoffer that a 
religious man may, and does, relapse into sin, yea, into 
gross sin. What better, then, is such a Christian than me ? 
says the ungodly man, for we both sin and repeat our sin. 
There are distinct and definite differences. The Chris- 
tian sins reluctantly, he sins uncomfortably, he repents 
and mourns over it ; he is angry with himself and abhors 



1 6 4 DULCE DOMUM. 

his sin. He prays, he vows, he believes against it. 
Doubt not, therefore, but he who sins with such a rup- 
tured enjoyment will be apt to repeat his sin at far more 
distant intervals than the man who sins without discom- 
fort and without repentance. 

We have discussed the unbeliever's objection to Chris- 
tianity ; let us discuss the Christian's objection to un- 
belief. We admit the great capacity of many unbe- 
lievers, their freedom and activity of thought, the vast 
range of their speculation ; but they have no basis of 
hope.* They are blind eagles flying over the wide 
ocean, and up and down in the boundless sky, where is 
no perch to rest upon. 

It is a great help to the religious feelings to live always 
as in the presence and under the immediate rule of the 
Most High, to learn his laws and obey them. And 
science is becoming a powerful exponent of these, so 
that the more one knows and considers the more he sees 
the perfection of the Divine government : the admirable 
tribunal of conscience within; and without, officers of 
justice, a complete staff, war, famine, disease, those 
mighty executioners, down to the insects empowered to 
punish personal uncleanliness. 

Time and place have something to do with religion. 
Sunday should, as far as possible, be devoted to religious 
exercises and reflections. The multitudes of nominal 
Christians, who, on summer Sundays, prefer the harsh 
scream of the railway whistle to the soft diapason of the 



* " Ou va la France, et qui la dirige ? Elle marche a l'inconnu, 
et c'est le hasard qui la guide." — Gaulois, June 5, 1871. 



RELIGION. 165 

church organ, in most cases lose the grand opportunities 
for cultivating their highest nature — opportunities which 
exist by the providence of One who saw the end from the 
beginning. 

It is true there are other places of prayer besides 
temples and churches. The invalid, as he walks by the 
sea-shore praying, accompanied by the billow's deep 
response; the fisherman in his boat, beneath the noc- 
turnal sky, when the bright stars, like so many heavenly 
eyes, gleam upon him with encouragement ; and the 
woodman in the forest, singing his hymn amidst the 
melody of birds, are objects as interesting and poetical 
as a priest with gorgeous vestments praying in some old, 
glorious Gothic structure ; but such occasional worship 
in nature does not absolve us from the duty of assembling 
ourselves together in the house of God. Nor is it only a 
duty, but a privilege and a rich delight to those who wor- 
ship intelligently and reverently. It is more ; it is a 
necessity of our nature ; we could no more do without 
churches and chapels than we could do without schools, 
colleges, and universities." 

Equally dangerous is the opinion that any spare time, 
any leisure moment, any remnant from business and 



* After religion had been overthrown in France, and the churches 
in Paris closed during the Great Revolution, the foremost man of the 
time happened to be walking alone in the woods, when a distant 
church bell struck his ear. "Involuntarily," he says, "I felt 
emotion ; so powerful is the influence of early habits and associa- 
tions. I said to myself, if I feel thus, what must be the influence 
of such impressions on simple and credulous men ? Let your 
philosophers, your ideologues, answer that if they can." — Alison's 
"History," c. xxxv. 31. 



166 DULCE DOMUM. 

pleasure, will do for religion. Day by day must be our 
motto. Prayer is the Christian's breath. Scripture is 
the spirit's most nutritious food, of which the God- 
nurtured man must have a portion as regular as each re- 
turning sun. God gave to reptiles an arbitrary stomach, 
which defies the periodic calls for nutriment; but to 
nobler beings He gave a daily appetite. Perhaps we are 
unconscious of the extent to which we are engrossed by 
things secular, and do not reflect on the minimum which 
is left for devotion. How can intelligent men offer to 
God such fragments of worship, and even these frag- 
ments not genuine ? Here is the account of the eccle- 
siastical devotions of one endowed with vast intellect, 
and not destitute of religious feeling : "The First Consul 
went to mass on Sunday, and remained during the ser- 
vice, which seldom exceeded ten minutes, in an adjoin- 
ing apartment, with the door open, looking over papers, 
or engaged in his usual occupations." 

Forms are useful, but it is sometimes useful to break 
them. A liturgy ought not to supersede ejaculatory 
prayer. When the mind is thoroughly leavened with 
grace it discovers for itself the method of praying with- 
out ceasing. God's Spirit suggests prayer on infinite 
occasions, where the rubric of custom prescribes none, 
The advanced Christian does not even peruse his news- 
paper without prayer. There is a rumour of war ; he 
prays God to avert it. There is a murderer convicted ; 
he prays God to have mercy on the criminal's soul. There 
is a notice of some benevolent society ; he prays God to 
prosper it. There is a parliamentary debate ; he prays 
God to teach our senators wisdom. How peaceable, 



RELIGION. 167 

how merciful, how benevolent, how patriotic is such a 
spirit ! How transcendently does it surpass the frivolous, 
trifling, sensual, and malicious appetite with which world- 
lings grasp their newspaper ! 

There is a semi-religious condition which ought to be 
adverted to. It is where men go through life sinning 
and repenting. Such a man may be sincere, and only 
double-minded in so far as he is under the influence of 
opposite feelings at different times, and while under the 
influence of one set of feelings speaks a language corre- 
sponding to them — thus having figuratively what Lord 
Mulgrave had literally, " two distinct voices." This 
alternation of feeling is a subject as yet very obscure, 
and reminds one of the heart of the Ascidians, whose 
circulation every now and then pauses, and then becomes 
reversed. A striking instance of this tidal penitence was 
Henry III., the last of the Valois line. At one time he 
went about dressed as a woman and a harlot ; at another 
time he would be going about the streets in robes of 
penitence, telling his beads as he went. In such a state 
there is no real enjoyment either in sin or in Divine 
things. How much better to drain off the marshes of 
remorse thoroughly and for ever by one deep channel of 
penitence ! 

This will lead to real earnestness; and it may be 
observed that if our convictions were proportionate 
to our knowledge, and if our feelings were propor- 
tionate to our convictions, and if our actions were pro- 
portionate to our feelings, we might set the world on 
fire. 

Above all, while enjoying your own religion and 



1 68 DULCE DOMUM. 

holding your own opinions, be liberal and tolerant 
towards others. The best way to treat error is to leave 
it alone. The odour of heresy, when stopped up, retains 
its strength, but being unstopped it evaporates and comes 
to nothing. 



CHAPTER XII. 



ECONOMY. 



Economy is a right management of property, and a 
regulation of expense according to income. It is a great 
and pernicious mistake to suppose that economy is mean- 
ness, or that it is even a sign of poverty or narrow- 
mindedness. Those who deny the union of genius with 
prudence in money matters can never have studied the 
life of Shakespeare. 

The parsimonious violate economy as much as the 
prodigal. Queen Elizabeth had this quality in excess,* 
as Lord Bacon had it in defect. It was a want of 
economy that led the great chancellor to take presents 
from the suitors in the Court of Chancery, for it made 
him poor, and embarrassed, and then easily tempted. 

It was economy in excess that made Queen Elizabeth 
so unfeeling towards the troops, which she sent under 
Leicester to the Netherlands. Her brave soldiers were 
starving in rags, and yet only very inadequate remittances 
could be extorted from her. Her generals and captains 



* Dante (Inferno vii. 56) says that the avaricious will rise from 
their graves with closed fists. 



170 DULCE DO MUM. 

themselves had to pay the soldiers. Something she lent 
to Leicester from the love she bore him ; but on his death, 
while dropping a tear upon the grave of " sweet Robin," 
she had his goods sold at auction to defray his debts to 
herself.* This meanness sullies a great historic name, 
and shows that the parsimonious indulge in mean actions 
at a great cost — since shame is the cost.f 

Avoiding, therefore, both these extremes, it is wise to 
strive after the generous mean. 

Without any caprice the meaning of this word may be 
greatly extended ; for besides economy of money, there 
ought to be economy of time, and health, and energy, 
and affection, and all other precious things. How 
much waste there is in the world — waste of water that 
might turn a million wheels ; waste of steam that might 
drive a million engines ; waste of land that might feed a 
million mouths ; waste of coal that might warm a million 
homes. Here, however, we confine ourselves mainly to 
the pecuniary question. 

It is one of the principles of economy to attend to 
little things. It was a verse worthy of being in Scripture, 
" He that contemneth little things shall fall by little and 
little." Worldly wisdom verifies this truth as to money 
in its own peculiar way : " Take care of the pence, and 
the pounds will take care of themselves." 

In a family, small expenses when often repeated con- 
sume a man's income. For the understanding is thereby 

* Motley's " United Netherlands," ii. 562. 

f It is but just to add that by means of her rigid economy she 
paid all the debts which she found on the crown ; though some of 
these had been contracted even during the reign of her father. 



ECONOMY. 171 

deceived, as it were, by this sophism, if every part is little 
then the whole is little. The whole and all the pa»ts 
together are large, though made up of small parts.* 
Thus a man who is very careful not to incur any one 
large expense, and who consoles himself that he is buying 
only little things, may at the end of a month find that the 
small items make a large amount. 

Little people are always afraid of being discovered 
attending to little things ; whereas great minds owe much 
of their greatness to a courageous attention to the 
minutiae of their work. Much of the Duke of Wellington's 
success has been attributed to this manly and patient 
habit. Well is it for him who is early taught to perceive 
the power of littles for good and evil, and who can give 
a wide application to such proverbial sayings as : A little 
leak will sink a great ship : Little drops of water make an 
ocea?i : Little moments make eternity. 

He who has learned this lesson will not be above 
keeping accounts ; and, if he keeps them, let him keep 
them correctly. For to keep no accounts, or to keep 
them partially, produces a miserable state of uncertainty ; 
while the comfort of keeping them accurately and regu- 
larly is something to be felt rather than described. And 
besides the comfort there is the ease — accounts are so 
easily kept, when kept daily. The Rev. Charles Simeon, 
of Cambridge, was an extraordinary example of this 
pecuniary accuracy — being remarkably careful and exact 
in the mode of keeping his accounts. To ensure all 
possible accuracy, as well as to prevent or detect errors, 

* Arist. Polit., v. 8. 



172 DULCE DO MUM. 

he not only kept his journal and ledger in a way of 
double entry, but had them regularly balanced by an 
experienced person, at three different periods of the year. 
On one of these occasions an error was observed, to the 
amount, however, of but one penny. This exceedingly 
annoyed Mr. Simeon, and after some days of fruitless 
search to discover the mistake, he insisted on the 
accountant taking away the books with him, and never 
remitting his efforts till he had detected the error. 
" There ! make it out for me, cost what it will. I'll not 
have my books wrong even by a penny ; make it out for 
me you shall — and I'll give you twenty pounds." After 
much laborious investigation the error was discovered. 
Great was Mr. Simeon's delight, when the balance was 
at length brought out correctly, and he instantly gave a 
cheque for the twenty pounds.* 

The mention of accounts suggests the safe-keeping of 
receipts. It is not enough that you are accurate, if 
others are careless and forgetful. A bill, which has been 
already paid, may be presented again, and unless you 
have kept the receipt, you may have to pay twice, and 
lose both money and temper. 

One manifest advantage of such periodical settlements 
is, that it enables a man to see exactly how he stands, 
and so to curtail or enlarge his expenditure without 
uncertainty. On one of these occasions Joseph John 
Gurney found he had ^500 to spare, and sent it to 
his sister, the well-known Elizabeth Fry.t 



Life of Simeon," by Carus, p. 67] 
Life of J. J. Gurney," i. 152. 



ECONOMY. 173 

Many a man for want of this habit drifts into debt 
without knowing it. Debt, what a word is that ! How 
happy is he who can say, I have never been in debt* It 
puts a man under obligations, interferes with his liberty, 
and makes him, to a certain extent, a slave. Creditors 
take advantage of the debtor, and assume over him. To 
escape from debt, he is driven to borrow and beg, to lie 
and pawn, and sinks deeper and deeper into the morass 
of humiliation. Now, inasmuch as economy preserves a 
man from this miserable degradation, it is a most pre- 
cious habit. 

Of the three famous sentences inscribed in golden 
letters in the temple at Delphi, this was one : Misery is 
the consequence of debt and discord. Biography abounds 
with illustrations. The gifted statesman Fox was re- 
duced to such distress from want of economy, that he 
borrowed money even from the waiters at Brooke's. 
His great rival Pitt suffered from a similar embarrassment. 
An effort was made to get people to subscribe to pay his 
debts, and an earnest canvasser has left this memo- 
randum : " Tried many, but cold in general." In the 
autumn of 1801, Mr. Pitt's private friends had raised 
;£i 2,000 to relieve him from embarrassment. He was 
addicted to wine, and he had no frugality, so that he 
died overwhelmed with debt. Parliament voted ^40,000 
to his creditors. Bentham also was involved in pecuniary 
difficulties. " I have seen the tears run down the cheeks 
of that strong-minded man through vexation, at the 



* " Not once does the word debt appear directly or indirectly in 
his letters or journal." — " Life of Bishop Daniel Wilson of Calcutta." 



174 DULCE DOMUM. 

pressing importunity of creditors and the insolence of 
official underlings, when day after day he was begging 
at the Treasury for what was indeed a mere matter of 
right. He was quite soured by it, and I have no doubt 
that many of his harsh opinions afterwards were the 
fruit of this ill-treatment." * 

Herodotus relates that at one time, there being a 
great want of circulation of money, a law was made 
by the Egyptians, that a man, by giving the dead body 
of his father in pledge, might borrow money.! Philip, 
the son and heir of Baldwin II., Emperor of Constan- 
tinople, was pawned at Venice as the security for a debt. 
The Emperor John Palaeologus was detained at the same 
place, and for the same reason. In some countries the 
insolvent has even been sold. 

Worse than all, the debtor puts his conscience in 
pledge, and cannot make use of this divine instrument 
until it is redeemed. He cannot look the world in the 
face, he cannot speak out his opinions boldly, he cannot 
be independent for the truth. He makes excuses and 
evasions ; he tells lies when he cannot pay the debt : — 

" An unthrift was a liar from all time ; 
Never was debtor that was not deceiver."]: 

He is driven into straitened ways, from which he is fain 
to escape by the meanest exit. 

The great Roman satirist noted that there was no 
more bitter effect of poverty than this — that it made 



Life of Wilberforce," ii. 171. t Herod., ii. 136. 

+ Sir H. Taylor's " Notes from Life," p. 26. 



ECONOMY. 175 

men ridiculous; and as a corollary, he added, there 
are very many things which a man in a threadbare coat 
dare not say.* Ridicule is an intensified form of dis- 
respect ; and men are not disposed to listen to those 
whom they do not respect. This is one of the heavy 
penalties of poverty, and it ought to be a powerful 
inducement to all men to make their expenditure less 
than their income, so as to maintain their respectability, 
and to hold their own. 

The good and the noble will suffer from pecuniary 
difficulties; the ordinary man will utterly deteriorate. 
Schiller, animated with high aspirations, was depressed 
with " low-thoughted care." Inferior men, having lost 
the protection that money gives, subside into a sort of 
social destitution, and resemble the lobster that has cast 
its shell and is at the mercy of contemptible enemies. 
The very worms eat it by inches. 

The transition from contempt to beggarliness is very 
short. The debtor considers himself ill-used, envies the 
prosperity of others, decries the partiality of fortune, 
considers himself a privileged person and entitled to 
support from his fellows. These delusions mitigate his 
degradation generally ; but he has occasional pangs. 
" Begging is sweet in the mouth of the shameless ; but 
in his belly there shall burn a fire." t 

Economy also enables us to save, and no man is a 
friend to himself who does not save or make some pro- 
vision for the future. The superfluity of the present being 
saved and accumulated, a man can confront sickness or 

* Juv. Sat., iii. 152, v. 130. t Ecclus. xl. 30. 



176 DULCE DOMUM. 

adversity, or old age, without dismay; for savings ar 
real embankments against the inroads of distress. A 
good man will not limit his foresight to himself; but- he 
will provide for his family. He cannot bear the thought 
that his wife and children should be dependent on the 
tender mercies or the harsh mercies of the world; and 
this dread stimulates him to make them independent. 
Where a man's income dies with him, or where he finds 
it impossible to save anything considerable, he ought to 
insure his life. Not to do anything of this kind is 
culpable. One who had made no provision used to 
decry life assurance. He died early, and his family was 
reared on charity. 

Besides insurance if it is possible there ought to be 
savings, however small. He is not provident who has 
no reserve; and he who has a reserve and keeps it, is 
both prudent and comfortable. Here again one sees 
how beneficial it is to have an element of fear in cha- 
racter. Those preparations are most safe which are 
made with a feeling of fear.* 

Economy is not always cheapness : it is judicious 
outlay ; for it is often seen that the cheapest is the least 
economical, because it is the least durable and service- 
able. Many are deluded with bargains — " occasions " the 
French call them ; and they certainly are occasions of 
temptation. Under their influence a man buys books 
which are never read, sometimes never cut open. 

What signifies a year's economy if one is reckless even 

* Thucyd. vi. 34. — rag fitra 0o/3cu izapaaiztvag aocpaXecTaTag 
voji'ioavrag. 



ECONOMY. 177 

for an hour. The laborious saving of a life may be 
squandered in a day. Fits come upon the mind as well 
as on the body. The student is familiar with that 
species called bibliomania, which leads him to buy more 
books than he can afford, and sometimes more than he 
requires. It will conduce greatly to his comfort if he 
gets no books except such as are needful, and none 
except he can pay for them at the time without leaving 
other things unsettled. An unpaid book is always 
reminding a conscientious reader of obligation and debt. 
Under such circumstances the reading is apt to be 
acescent. 

There is often a delusion in exchange. In barter one 
is apt to part with something precious, but at present 
uncared for, in exchange for an article far less valuable, 
but at present longed for. Here is a source of loss, not 
perceived at the time, owing to the vehement desire for 
some new thing. Others are deluded by the prospect of 
rapid wealth, and invest in lauded speculations ; not 
reflecting that they, like baloons, are generally covered 
with varnish, and are often as empty. Still more 
hazardous and impoverishing are games of chance. Pitt 
for a little while played at these with intense earnestness, 
but he perceived their increasing fascination, and soon 
after suddenly abandoned them for ever. By these and 
such-like means, or even by indolent neglect, it is easy 
to dilapidate the estate,* which has been provided by 
relations, or accumulated by our own industry. 



* " Habenda autem ratio est rei familiaris, quam quidem dilabi 
sinere flagitiosum est." — Cic, De Off., ii. 18. 



1 78 DULCE DO MUM. 

It is an instructive idea of Franklin, when he repre- 
sents indulgences and luxuries as self-imposed taxes. 
The Government taxes are indeed heavy ; " but we have 
many others, and much more grievous to some of us. 
We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times 
as much by our pride, and four times as much by our 
folly." * This idea may be extended to rivalry, which is 
a costly tax. In the interview between Henry VIII. 
and Francis, at Calais, the nobility of both nations vied 
with each other in pomp and expense. Many of them 
involved themselves in great debts, and were not able, 
by the penury of their whole lives, to repair .the vain 
splendour of a few days. It is a common observation 
that the expenses of the great sometimes consist in 
pomp and show rather than in convenience and true 
pleasure. 

Keeping up appearance is another tribute which people 
pay to society. It is often, in the felicitous words of 
Gibbon, an expensive effort to disguise their poverty. 

Social customs often involve in unnecessary expense. 
One of these has often been unseasonably oppressive — 
the cost of funerals. It is a curious historical fact that 
the moderate estate of Richard Cromwell was burdened 
with a large debt contracted for the interment of the 
Protector. Such funeral burdens are well known among 
the poor, and their mourning is often aggravated by this 
artificial distress. 

Those who have great wealth ought to make large and 
liberal expenditure. Thus their money circulates and 

* " The Way to Wealth." 



ECONOMY. 179 

benefits multitudes, even down to the very poor. The 
remark of a rag-gatherer in Paris contained a lecture of 
political economy : — " When there is no luxury, we make 
nothing." * But expenditure should always be less than 
income, otherwise a man becomes a spendthrift and 
devours his substance, making one believe in edible 
houses, as well as edible nests. Lord Bacon has given a 
wise precept with regard to curtailment of expense : — 
" Commonly, it is less dishonourable to abridge petty charges 
than to stoop to petty gettings."\ This ought not to apply 
to mean and pernicious savings. Subscriptions to chari- 
ties, church-offerings, pensions to the poor, are sometimes 
among the first to suffer in efforts after economy. How 
noble is Goethe's prayer in contrast : — " God grant that 
I may daily become more economical, that I may be able to 
do more for others." 

A cheap devotion is often popular, and no payments 
are so much grudged by some people as God's dues. 
He is never weary of giving : He is constantly renewing 
his gifts ; and yet, no doubt, the Greek comedian % 
described a common but mistaken feeling when he 
represented the statues of the gods as extending the 
hand with the hollow uppermost, not as about to give 
anything, but that they may receive something. x\lexan- 
der the Great handsomely rebuked his tutor Leonidas, 
a parsimonious worshipper. It seems Leonidas one 
day had observed Alexander at a sacrifice, throwing 



* A chiffonier told Sir F. B. Head : " Quand il n'y a pas de 
luxe, on ne fait rien ! " — " Faggot of French Sticks," i. 462. 

t Bacon's Essays : "Of Expense." % Aristoph. Eccles., 780. 



180 DULCE DOMUM. 

incense into the fire by handfuls, and said to him : — 
"Alexander, when you have conquered the country 
where spices grow, you may be thus liberal of your 
incense ; but in the meantime, use what you have more 
sparingly." When afterwards he found five hundred 
talents of frankincense among his spoils, he wrote to 
his old tutor : — " I have sent you frankincense and 
myrrh in abundance, that you may be no longer a churl 
to the gods." * 

Saving is a great income,! for men become more wealthy 
not only by adding to their capital stock, but by sub- 
tracting from their expenses as well. J It is in this way 
that the management of a good housewife is so valuable. 
The Greeks, from whom we borrow the word economy, 
took a larger view of it than we do, and applied it to 
the whole management of the house, and exalted it to 
the rank of an art or science. § Xenophon gives a quaint 
and pleasing glimpse of their domestic life. His sketch 
of a model husband and wife is touching and impressive. 
He represents them as early in their married life offering 
sacrifice, and praying that they might teach and learn 
" what would be best for both of us." The young wife 
made many vows to the gods that she would be such as 
she ought to be.|| He recommends the art of knowing 
how to keep a surplus ; ^[ the habit of numbering, and 
making lists of utensils, and storing all things in their 
proper places ;** and his idea on the subject of order is 
so good that it deserves to be reproduced. " As to 

* Plut. in Alex. f Magnum vectigal parsimonia est. 

X Arist. Rhet., i. 4, 8. § Xenoph. CEconomicus, c. vi. 4. 
II CEconom., vii. 8. U ii. 10. ** ix. 10. 






ECONOMY. 181 

disorder, it seems to me something like as if a husband- 
man should throw into his granary barley and wheat and 
peas together, and then, when he wants barley bread, 
or wheaten bread, or peas-soup, should have to abstract 
them grain by grain, instead of having them separately 
laid up for his use." * 

To some the worship of money and its abuses have 
seemed so detestable that they have passed into the 
other extreme, and decried riches; while they have 
lauded poverty as the mother of virtue, of industry, and 
invention. After all it must be admitted that a little 
freehold is a great blessing. It enables a man to hold 
out in his struggles for success ; it secures many of the 
good things of life ; f and it fortifies a man against 
unpopularity and enmity. J On a little money more or 
less depends comfort, sometimes health, sometimes life 
itself. Many a man who has broken down might have 
lived if he had possessed the means of taking a holiday 
and rest, of consulting skilful medical men, and of pro- 
curing requisite comforts and medicines. 

Wealth brings cares and responsibilities. Listen to 
the testimony of Joseph John Gurney : " I can certainly 
testify that some of the greatest pains and most burden- 
some cares which I have had to endure, have arisen 
out of being what is usually called a monied man." He 

* Xenoph. CEcon., viii. 9. 

f " Scilicet uxorem cum dote fidemque et amicos 
Et genus et formam regina Pecunia donat, 
Ac bene nummatum decorat Suadela Venusque." 

Hor. Ep., i. 6, 36. 

X " At mihi plaudo." — Hor. Sat. i. I, 66. 



1 84 DULCE DOMUM, 

will receive back as much again. But it is this very 
doubt that makes the loan pleasing in God's sight, and 
constitutes it a trial of faith and love ; so that it is a 
perversity which converts the argument for lending into 
an argument for withholding. 

There is one case in which there can be no doubt : 
we ought never to lend that which is not our own. " I 
had been chosen treasurer," said Lavater, " of a certain 
charitable institution, and had received the funds sub- 
scribed for its conduct, when a friend came in great 
distress and begged me to advance him a sum of money 
to save him from bankruptcy. ' You should have it at 
once, but I have no such sum.' ' You have the charity 
fund in your power ; lend me what I need from that. 
Long before the day comes on which you must pay it 
over, I shall be able to replace it, and you will save me 
and mine from ruin.' At last I reluctantly consented. 
His hopes, as I had foreseen, were disappointed: he 
could not repay me." * 

As has been already hinted, economy should embrace 
other things besides money. There are still more 
precious things which call for judicious management. 
Of 'property ', the first and most necessary part is that which 
is best and chiefest — and this is MAN.f We must make 
provision for the soul as well as for the body, for 
eternity as well as for time. We read in history of a 
Roman soldier who, at the plunder of an Eastern city, 
found a bag full of pearls. The bag was made of shining, 
polished leather, therefore he counted it a great prize ; 

* " Life of Wilberforce," i. 85. f Arist. CEcon., c. v. 



ECONOMY. 185 

as for the pearls, he knew not what they were, so he 
threw them all away. This is exactly what men do with 
higher things : they take care of the body, the shining 
leather bag ; but as for the soul, the pearl, they throw it 
quite away. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

EDUCATION. 

Something has already been said on the subject of 
Education in the chapters on parents.* This section is 
less specially for them, and is equally intended for tutors, 
governesses, and teachers ; and it deals with the ques- 
tion in a more systematic way. 

Trebonius, the teacher of Luther, had a habit which 
will preserve his name for evermore. When he came 
into the schoolroom he took off his hat and bowed to 
the scholars — a great condescension in those pedantic 
times. " There are," said he, " among these youths 
some whom God will one day raise to the ranks of 
burgomasters, chancellors, doctors, and magistrates."! 

This reverence for the potential development of chil- 
dren is a prime qualification in those who have the care 
of youth. The parents, who can imagine what their 
children may become in the future, must indeed be 
solemnized. There is such a capacity for change. The 
same person photographed as an infant, as a youth, as 
an old man, appears not one but three : the portraits are 

* Chaps, v. and vi. 

f D'Aubigne's " History of the Reformation," i. 153. 



EDUCATION. 187 

as different as possible ; yet these physical changes are 
not greater than the intellectual and moral differences of 
infancy and old age. 

Although such an imagination be useful, yet fore 
knowledge would be undesirable both for parents and 
children. It would paralyse all education and all exer- 
tion ; and it would be a curse and not a blessing. 
Suppose Charles I. of England, when he received a 
golden key, and opened all the chambers of a Spanish 
palace, had known that on some future day he would be 
a prisoner among his own people ; or suppose when he 
mounted his ancestral throne, he had foreseen that he 
would be driven from it, and beheaded by usurping 
subjects, how would the future bitterness have soured 
the present joy! 

But while God mercifully withholds foreknowledge, his 
Providence is abundantly suggestive of the solemn pos- 
sibilities of the future, and thus gives a most powerful 
stimulus to parents to train up their children in the fear 
of God, in the love of good, and in the hatred of evil. 
The fact that theatrical people visit the schools about 
Drury Lane for children to be made into angels, might 
suggest to teachers that they have the high mission of 
preparing the little ones both for earth and heaven. 

Education is the art of training childhood into man- 
hood, and of developing all its nascent faculties and 
dispositions wisely, not by any forced process, but natu- 
rally, and gently, and holily. It must always be one of 
the greatest political questions, and one of the most 
serviceable undertakings to the State, because children 
are the citizens that are to be, and such as we make 



1 88 DULCE DO MUM. 

them in their early years will they be in their maturity, 
for " the child is father of the man." This is the reason 
why it is indeed of the greatest importance to have the 
first teaching of a child; and the Jesuits have often 
shown great shrewdness in securing this vantage for 
themselves. Early impressions are the elementary tissue, 
out of which mature life is organized. Hence the 
extreme difficulty of eliminating first prejudices. Every 
one knows this, especially Christian ministers, who 
seldom succeed in converting adult sceptics, Jews or 
others, who have taken in and assimilated wrong ideas 
at a very early age. 

It would take too long here to discuss the respective 
advantages of private and public education, but one 
remark may be made. Boys who are kept secluded at 
home and know nothing of the world, are but ill-pre- 
pared, when they are sent forth all at once, as young 
men, to battle with the temptations, and ridicule, and 
insincerity of the world. The general opinion is, that 
they are thus placed at a disadvantage and quickly fall. 
Considering the question of education in the most 
general way, let us first discuss the — 

I. Principles of Training. — All education ought to be 
interpenetrated with religion. Some one put up an 
inscription — " Utrecht planted ; Louvaine watered ; the 
Emperor gave the increase." Another wrote underneath, 
God did nothing here. In training children the influence 
of the Divine Spirit must not be overlooked. Often 
education is a failure because God is not honoured ; and 
the best teachers will be the readiest to admit, that after 
they have done all, they are as incompetent to impart 



EDUCATION. 189 

vitality as was Prometheus of old, unless it can be pro- 
cured from Heaven. 

All education ought to have reference to the physical 
constitution, and therefore every teacher ought to know 
physiology well. It is for want of this knowledge that 
Locke's " Thoughts concerning Education " are now so 
depreciated in value. He recommends children to "be 
inured to cold and wet ; " to regard them as " all face ; " 
" to wear no cap ; " and " to have shoes so thin, that 
they might leak and let in water whenever they come 
near it ; " and to put the feet of tender babes in ice and 
cold water, in frost and snow.* Now what does an 
intelligent physician say on the same subject ? " The 
attempt to harden children by exposure to too great a 
degree of cold is of the mosrt injurious nature ; it either 
produces acute disease of the lungs, which are then very 
sensitive of external impressions, or disease of the diges- 
tive organs leading to disease of the mesenteric glands, 
scrofula, water in the brain, or, if they survive a few 
years, to early consumption." At the same time, it is 
a great misfortune for children to be brought up in 
luxury, for it is manifestly demoralising; it does for 
morals what antimony does for metals — it readily com- 
bines with them, but makes them frail and brittle.! 

Our public schools put a premium upon precocity and 

* Pages 7 — 10. 

f Locke regarded dancing as an indispensable part of early 
education. He said : "I think children should be taught to dance 
as soon as they are capable of learning it. For though this consist 
only in outward gracefulness of motion, yet I know not how, it 
gives children manly thoughts and carriage more than anything."— 
P. 50. 



i go DULCE DO MUM. 

overwork the tender brain, injure the health, and destroy 
the temper. Teachers more skilful in the classics than 
in the knowledge of their own structure, or the obser- 
vation of nature, ruin many a growing youth. Is it not 
true in more cases than one, that a late spring makes a 
fruitful year ? Does nature convey no lesson in the fact, 
that the seed of the rose requires two years to germinate ? 
Drop upon drop, that is how the beautiful stalactites are 
formed. We should never forget degree and quantity ; 
much depends upon the how much. The gases which 
form the air we breathe, in different proportions form 
a deadly poison. History, science, language, religion 
given in fair proportions, create delight and give an 
appetite for more ; but when given in excess, the most 
delightful studies become nauseous. Precocity, which is 
the boast of the shallow, is the dread of the wise. The 
knowledge that percolates gently into youth, will well up 
in a spring in after-life, when the precocious vessel is 
water-logged. 

Harsh teaching may be set down as one of the causes 
of disappointment in education. " There is that speaketh 
like the piercings of a sword, but the tongue of the wise 
is health." * " The sweetness of the lips increaseth 
learning." f Gentle discipline is a mixture of summer 
and winter. Children should have little indulgences, 
just because they are children. That preacher under- 
stood infantile nature who, in his travels, always carried 
a silk bag of comfits for the restless little ones. } 

* Proverbs xii. 18. t Ibid. xvi. 21. 

% This will remind the scholar of Horace's " blandi doctores " 
and their " crustula." — Sat. i. 1. 25. 



EDUCATION. 191 

A judicious indulgence moderates the intensity of 
desire; but when children are thwarted and denied in 
everything they fret the more against restraint, and when 
the barriers are removed they rush headlong into the 
forbidden gratification. 

Encouragement is an excellent stimulus for the young; 
but the teacher must be careful as to the motives which 
he employs. It is hurtful to familiarise children with 
ambitious and mercenary motives, and to employ the 
idea of getting on as a daily spur. Qualified praise and 
gentle blame, and the idea of duty, are among the best 
stimulants. Sometimes a teacher may not know the 
power of a word of praise, especially on a modest and 
retiring disposition. Bishop Hampden, in his later days, 
used to relate, laughing at himself as he said it, that at 
school he was commended for a Latin theme, and his 
delight at this praise was such that he went into the 
fields alone and there read the theme aloud, to hear how 
it sounded.* 

The superiority of present times over the past is seen 
as clearly in education as in any department of life. 
Luther's schoolmaster flogged him fifteen times in one 
day. The only religious feeling of the child was fear. 
Every time that he heard Christ spoken of he turned 
pale with terror, t 

Severe disciplinarians have often been mere thrashing 
machines, and have injured the germinating powers of 
the seed. They have crushed instead of invigorating, 



* "Memorials of Bishop Hampden," p. 4. 

f D'Aubigne's " History of the Reformation," i. 146. 



192 DULCE DOMUM. 

destroyed instead of developing. While therefore they 
have fancied that they were stimulating and quickening 
the young, they have in reality been deafening* and stupe- 
fying their minds. If there is any corporal punishment 
at all, an occasional diminution of food might be justified 
on physiological principles.! 

Discipline is a thing so flexible that it is always apt to 
pass into extremes ; and it is easier to be too severe or 
too lax than it is to hold the just mean. A good and 
wise man will abhor tyranny and laxity; but certainly 
one ought to insist upon obedience, and that without 
giving reasons ; for a parent may give orders rightly, and 
yet give reasons wrongly, and, therefore, if he allows 
discussion, his authority is gone. Burns gives an amusing 
account of a debate between a schoolmaster # and himself 
before the whole school. Of course, the teacher was 
discomfited, and the scholar triumphant in the judgment 
of a sympathizing audience. 

The insane used to be treated brutally. At Han well 
there were found six hundred instruments of restraint, 
half of them being handcuffs and leglocks. There were 
also whirling chairs,J in which the lunatic was whirled 
round at the rate of a hundred, gyrations a minute. In 
an age of such impatient management, unruly children 
would fare ill. It does not seem to have occurred to the 
authorities of those times that violent treatment injured 
while it subdued. They believed in physical force, and 
would scarcely have appreciated the wise advice of a 

* " Timor animi auribus officit." — Sallust. Catil., 58. 
t Ty yaarpi koXclvOeLq. — Aristoph. Eccles., 666. 
I "Life of Dr. Conolly," pp. 20, 47. 



EDUCATION. 193 

French implement-maker to a customer, who bought one 
of his machines — " Above all, sir, do not use it roughly T * 

A severe disciplinarian makes children secret and sly, 
and thus gives a permanent obliquity to the character 
that he would rule so straight. 

But what, it may be asked, can you do with a case of 
obstinacy — such a case as that of Madame Roland, who, 
at the age of six, was determined rather to die than to 
take medicine ? The answer is simple ; it may, and must 
be, overcome by the meekness of wisdom rather than by 
the violence of a stronger obstinacy. And if one must 
sometimes use sharpness, let it be but seldom. If we 
must sometimes use the probe to let out the abscess of 
vanity, or any other morbid gathering, yet neither a wise 
parent, nor a wise teacher, nor a wise minister, nor a 
wise surgeon, will be too busy with the lancet. 

" Come now, and let us reason together," is a formula 
which no one, however exalted, need be ashamed to 
adopt. What pathos and what wisdom there must have 
been in the expostulations of Socrates with Alcibiades I 
He often drew tears from the gay and brilliant youth. 
Doubtless, if we can convince and persuade the offender 
to condemn himself,! this achievement will be far more 
efficacious than a rebuke lasting the livelong day. 

It is far better to instil principles than to give rules ; 
for rules refer only to individual acts, and are endless ; 
but a principle may be expressed in a few words, and yet 
it comprehends innumerable actions ; just as a grain of 

* " Surtout, monsieur, ne brutalisez pas la mecanique." — The 
Times, June 12, 1869. 

t ^/';0y, tinrXy tit, ry r' l[xy Kai cry, \a/3w:\ — (Ed. Tyr., 607. 

O 



194 DULCE DOMUM. 

matter will dissolve and colour ten million times its size 
of water. Good principles are therefore of paramount 
importance, and this is why the corruption of principle is 
far more to be dreaded than the perversion of opinion. 
The one is a wound in the arteries ; the other is a wound 
in the veins. 

II. The teaching of religion. — Love can dwell in a very 
tiny lodging; it can live in an insect no bigger than a 
pin's head. It is the same with religion, it can dwell in 
very tiny children, in babes and sucklings, and, if wisely 
cultivated, it proves a life-long blessing ; but this happens 
rarely, and for the most part it is injudiciously trained. In 
the " Golde?i Book' 1 '' of St. John Chrysostom, concerning 
the education of children, some of the precepts are very 
curious. The boy is to see no female except his mother, 
to hear, see, smell, taste, touch nothing that gives 
pleasure ; to fast twice a week ; to read the story of 
Joseph frequently, and to know nothing about hell till he 
is fifteen years old. Can we wonder that children who 
have been brought up on this and similar religious 
schemes have become disgusted with religion ? What 
can be more injudicious than forcing children to read the 
Bible and repeat catechisms and hymns the whole of 
Sunday? The tied branch is sure to rebound, as the 
Presbyterian husbandman well knows. The priest has 
had the like experience. Here is the testimony of a 
French lady regarding her first communion : — " Prepared 
by all the customary means, by retirement, long prayers, 
silence, and meditation. It excited my imagination and 
softened my heart to such a degree that, bathed in tears 
and enraptured with divine love, I was incapable of 



EDUCATION. 195 

walking without assistance." This was in excess for one 
so young, and no excess is exempt from penalty. The 
lady afterwards became an infidel, and sometimes was 
even an atheist. 

One who had been educated in a school where there 
was a system of religious espionage, has described the 
reaction upon his own character in consequence : — " I 
was myself so disgusted with religion when I left the 
school that for many years afterwards I never opened my 
Bible and never said my prayers." 

It will be enough if the child is taught to pray regu- 
larly, affectionately, and reverently ; if it is encouraged 
to read a portion of the Scriptures daily, and if it is 
taught to act from religious and Christian motives. 

III. The teaching of morality. Conscience. — However 
repulsive some of Darwin's theories may be, he has 
certainly given a broad and good definition of conscience. 
He regards it as " a highly complex sentiment, having its 
first origin in the social instincts, largely guided by the 
approbation of our fellow-men, ruled by reason, self- 
interest, and in later times by deep religious feelings, 
confirmed by instruction and habit, all combined." * 

That is a comprehensive view of the moral sense. The 
great point is to keep the conscience healthy, and to 
educate it so that it may be " the very guide of life." 
Oftentimes, however, it is unduly developed, and children 
are more impressed with the dread than with the love of 
God ; and then conscientiousness passes into scrupulosity, 
which has eyes of excessive keenness, and can discern 

* " The Descent of Man," vol. i. part i. c. v. 



196 DULCE DO MUM. 

hideous animalculse in all the water of life. Hence arise 
discomforts, hesitations, and misgivings, which paralyse 
effort and embitter existence. 

Closely connected with this subject is Motive. Different 
and diverse are the motives which draw men to action — 
yea, to the same kind of action. They are all graduated, 
rising by degrees of nobility. Some act from compulsion : 
that is an iron band. Some from the praise of man ; 
that is no better than brass. Others work from a sense 
of duty ; that is a silver band. But it is golden, when a 
man is actuated by a desire for the glory of God. 

Sincerity. — If excessive conscientiousness is distressing, 
no less troublesome and unprosperous are the artifices of 
insincerity.* How many combinations, joinings, patch- 
ings, and insertions the hypocrite must attend to in order 
to make his life seem all of one piece and real ; and yet, 
after all, the artifice is often as visible as the seam on the 
skin of a stuffed lion. The child should be taught that 
to act sincerely is the most natural and the least irksome, 
and that to be true in deed as well as in word is one of 
the grandest qualities in life. 

In these days of refinement and civilisation there is 
often a want of singleness of mind. People wish to be 
so polite, and have such a horror of giving offence that 
they have recourse to equivocations and subterfuges, and 
fictitious excuses; and so come to act a double part.t 
When this unreality has crept over the whole character, 
what a pitiable object is the double-minded man ! He is 

* " Cum esset aliud simulatum, aliud actum." — Cic, De Off., 
iii. 14. 

f Ai7r\JJc fitpifivrjQ dnrrvxovQ iiav bSovg. — Eurip. Orest., 633. 



EDUCATION. IQ7 

as ready to dissimulate as to be straightforward, as 
ready to be filled with wine as with God's Spirit, as ready 
to commit an act of impurity as to perform an act of 
devotion, and can assume as opposite characters as a 
comedian, with, it may be, as little intention to deceive. 

Children are generally sincere ; and this transparency 
permits the operations of their minds to be easily 
observed. Hence a teacher, if he is observant, might 
have a great knowledge of human nature. Moliere liked 
to have children at his rehearsals, that he might form his 
conjectures from their natural artless movements. Now, 
why does not this sincerity last ? As has already been 
noted, severity makes children sly and deceitful. Be- 
sides, they soon imbibe the unreality around them. If 
parents and teachers live in a sort of masquerade, 
children will soon do the same. They will soon learn to 
seem what they are not, and call things by wrong names. 
It is painful to observe how often even religious men 
call evil good and good evil. Anger assumes the name 
of zeal; revenge takes that of justice; ambition calls 
itself usefulness ; covetousness would pass as economy ; 
servility borrows the name of courtesy; illiberality is 
recognised in society by the title of prudence ; while lust 
is baptized by the holy name of friendship.* These are 
hypocrites all. 

Truthfulness. — This is the basis of confidence and 
reliability, and one of the highest recommendations to 
office, besides being an unspeakable comfort to the man 



* " Tuta frequensque via est, per amici fallere nomen." — Art. 
Am., i. 585. 



198 DULCE DO MUM. 

himself. One could boast on his death-bed that he 
never told a lie.* 

The confirmed and inveterate liar is almost hopeless. 
He must be relegated to the hospital for moral in- 
curables, with whom God alone can deal; but much 
may be done to check and even to cure incipient un- 
truthfulness. First of all children should be cautioned 
against what may be called tinged truth. One may 
convey facts not falsely and yet not truly. The bad 
telescope presents an object with coloured fringes, and 
these correspond to the hue which an untruthful mind 
imparts to facts. Some glide into a habit of mis- 
representing, a most dangerous habit, which deceives 
others first, and themselves last and most of all. If they 
have done something amiss, they will misrepresent the 
actual state of affairs ; they will misplace facts • they 
will make out that some caprice of their own was an 
absolute necessity ; they will assert that some suggestion 
of their own was the express wish of others ; and thus 
by transposition of facts, by amalgamation of truth with 
fiction, and by a glaring colouring, they silence without 
satisfying. Such characters can scarcely hope to form 
an acquaintance with the guileless Nathaniel in the other 
world. 

To pass on to another species of untruthfulness. 
How painful it is to be in the company of one, who 
serves up all his narratives with the sauce of exaggera- 

* Mungo Park tells how an African herdsman was fatally 
wounded, and as he was being carried to his hut, his disconsolate 
mother walked on before, quite frantic with grief, clapping her 
hands and crying : " He never told a lie, no, never ! " 



EDUCATION. 100 

tion ! Such an experience should lead teachers to guard 
children betimes against magnifying speech. Impress 
upon them that they will not succeed by merely disusing 
superlatives ; but go deeper than words — go to the heart ; 
teach them to cultivate a sober mind, and then will follow 
sober words. 

Another danger which besets the young is rashness. 
They should be warned not to assert positively, especially 
when their inward consciousness refuses to endorse the 
statement. Teach them that certainly they will not 
always escape conviction. The rash speaker generally 
loses the confidence of others, and is liable to be put in 
the stocks of shame and confusion. " Seest thou a man 
that is hasty in his words ? There is more hope of a 
fool than of him." 

The rashness which deals so confidently with the past 
is quite as ready to deal with the future. Now facility 
has ever something dangerous about it, and it is perilous 
in promise-making. It promises easily, but it forgets 
easily. If promises were made of glass, as the proverb 
alleges, a vast quantity of that broken material would be 
found accumulated at the door of the rash promiser. 

Straightforwardness. — He is a poor educationist who 
has not imbued children with this principle from their 
earliest years. Even boys should be taught to quit 
themselves like men, and to walk erect and upright in 
their integrity. Show them that, however artful and 
subtle a wicked man may be, he has to walk through life 
stooping, like an ourang-outang ; and that the true alone 
are upright. Explain to them how men who leave off 
integrity are obliged to make moral commutations — 



2co DULCE DO MUM. 

appearance for reality, shrewdness for prudence, protest- 
ation for fidelity, and ostentation for liberality. Com- 
paring all this trouble with the easiness of uprightness, 
the inference might be suggested that the hypocrite is 
not only a rogue, but a fool, and that there are no brains 
in a mask. This should be the more plainly asserted, 
because some pride themselves on shrewdness, . and 
cunning, and ambi-dexterity, as if these were identical 
with acuteness and sagacity. Certainly equivocation is 
not one of the highest or noblest faculties. It is only 
to leptiles that God has given the power of changing 
colour in order to enable them to elude the vigilance of 
their enemies. 

Very careful should we be in training the young how 
to deal with their fellows. We should show them how 
one may gain his end, in so many different ways, by 
reason, by flattery, by importunity, by interest, by ridi- 
cule, by alarm ; and then teach them to take " the more 
excellent way." 

In education nothing should be more rigidly excluded 
than pretence — all should be natural, nothing artificial. 
Jean Paul speaks of children, " on whom, as on doves 
and canaries, false colours are painted by governesses, 
as well as by tutors^ which the first rain or moulting 
removes."* The image is true as to the false colouring, 
but does it hold good as to the easy removal ? 

One might say a word here to clergymen and ministers, 
who are great educationists. By requiring too high a 
standard of profession from communicants they are apt 

* "Levana," p. 18. 



EDUCATION. 201 

to engender hypocrisy. The young Christian imagines 
that he must be perfect, and striving to maintain that 
profession becomes disingenuous, rather clokes than 
confesses a fault, and, hearing the lapses of the brethren 
instanced as proofs of insincerity, becomes a hypocrite 
in order to avoid the charge of hypocrisy. Where a 
man's creed is too high, he must either openly come 
short of it, or appear to reach it by standing on the 
tiptoe of pretence. The natural effect of subscription 
at Oxford from undergraduates has been to foster un- 
reality. Bentham, from whom this requirement was 
made at the early age of twelve, declared that it left a 
stain upon his conscience which was never effaced in 
after-life, and with this feeling he dissuaded the late 
illustrious Marquis of Lansdowne from coming to Oxford, 
on the ground that it was a nest of perjury.* When we 
consider how incompetent young men are to understand 
abstruse doctrines, and yet that they have been obliged 
to declare their assent to them, on the pain of forfeiting 
University privileges, the system seems only a little less 
absurd than the scheme of the African chief Sechele, 
who offered to make all his men believe together by 
thrashing them with whips of rhinoceros hide.f 

Steadfastness. — One can scarcely begin too soon to 
train the young in steadfastness and decision of cha- 
racter. Where hesitation and indecision are allowed to 
creep over the character, how helpless and unpractical 
the man becomes ! Resolutions in the mind of the un- 



Dean Stanley's " Essays on Church and State," p. 165. 
Dr. Livingstone's "Missionary Travels," p. 17. 



2C2 DULCE DO MUM. 

stable roan are like birds dead in the shell ; their womb 
is likewise their grave. 

Where the moral character is defective, talent and 
even genius is terribly insecure. The clever man runs 
along on the wheels of glowing talents ; but if the axle- 
tree of character is weak, he may at any moment break 
down irretrievably. There is no guarantee for steadfast- 
ness, unless in earnest religious and moral education. 

A wise teacher will not overlook the discipline of 
failure. When a youth is puffed up with the pride and 
vanity of success, he provokes God to send him failure — 
that medicine which he most of all needs and yet dis- 
likes. And, though such a man may be very ingenious 
in proving to himself that it was not he that failed, 
but some other person or thing that interrupted his 
success, yet he will feel humbled, nevertheless, in some 
degree ; and he may now under judicious counsel 
discover what perhaps he never once thought of before 
— that some rival, or some report, or some desertion, is 
more than he can overcome, and therefore superior 
to him. 

Purity. — Children take a dye as readily as wool ; but 
who can restore the wool to its original whiteness, and 
who can restore youth to its original innocence ? This 
question suggests the wisdom of commencing education 
when the child is still comparatively pure and good. Even 
then it needs the cleansing grace of God. The cloth 
must first be fulled before it takes on the beautiful dyes. 
Let children be kindly guarded, not watched ; let them 
be well and happily occupied ; let them have a horror 
of what is low, and let them not be exposed to allure- 



EDUCATION. 203 

ments and temptations. Such a discipline is the safe- 
guard of purity. 

Kindness. — If a child is trained to be kind in early 
years the habit will equalise and smooth his after-course. 
It will save him from offensiveness and quarrels, from 
litigiousness and cruelty, and the hate which these dispo- 
sitions bring. The child should be taught to be civil 
and kind to all, to forgive injuries,* never allowed to 
give nicknames, never allowed to domineer over inferiors, 
or to injure animals. It is a hopeful index of a child's 
future when the death of a favourite bird or cat affects 
him grievously. One could have wished that the follow- 
ing contest had been omitted from Archbishop Whately's 
memoirs, still more that it had been omitted from his 
life. " One morning the future prelate had shot a crow. 
'This,' said he, ' will make a capital supper for Bishop.' 
That, I think, was the name of his dog. Accordingly 
he brought the crow home, and handed it to the land- 
lady with instructions how it was to be dressed for 
doggy. In due time it made its appearance, looking, I 
must confess, anything but tempting for a human stomach, 
and the dog seemed to think it as little suited to canine 
nature, for he turned his back on it disdainfully and 
slunk into a corner. AVhately endeavoured to coax him 
into an appetite for it, and from coaxing changed his 

* One of the most beautiful instances of forgiveness was exhibited 
by a child. The Dauphin (Louis XVII.) had been imprisoned, 
deprived of air, exercise and wholesome food, and kept in squalid 
filth. His brutal gaoler said to him one day : " Capet, if the 
Vendeans were to succeed in delivering you and placing you on the 
throne, what would you do with me ?" " I would pardon you," 
was the royal answer of the royal child. 



204 DULCE DO MUM. 

tone to that of remonstrance and rebuke, all to no pur- 
pose. It now became a contest between the will of the 
master and that of the animal. Whately resolved to 
carry his point. The dish was put away until the fol- 
lowing day. Morning, noon, and night the same thing 
recurred ; the more Whately laboured to induce Bishop, 
the more Bishop seemed determined not to yield, and 
the dish was remanded to yet another day. On the 
following morning when the dog was called, and, as 
before, shown the boiled crow, he paused for some 
minutes, eyed it with a look which deserved to be im- 
mortalised by Landseer, uttered a sharp yelp, and 
pouncing on the hateful mess devoured it as furiously as 
ever New Zealander did the flesh of his enemy, Whately 
all the while shouting, ' Good dog, good dog !' The vic- 
tory was gained, but there was no more crow cooking.'" 1 " 
This unworthy triumph is here reproduced partly to show 
that a word on kindness to animals is not out of place in 
a book for the educated classes. 

A pleasing contrast is found in the life of Cowper. 
The poet has immortalised his leverets, and his leverets 
have immortalised him. He had twice nursed one of 
these creatures, and restored it to health. The animal 
on each of these two occasions, and only then, expressed 
its gratitude most significantly by licking his hand, first 
the back of it, then the palm, then every finger separately, 
then between all the fingers, as if anxious to leave no 
part of it unsaluted.f . 

* ''Life of Archbishop Whately," i. 22. 
f Southey's "Life of Cowper," i. 260. 



EDUCATION. 205 

Kindness to animals is such an important element of 
education that the example of Bishop Heber may also 
be adduced. A fellow in India brought him two little 
leverets quite unfit to eat. The bishop reproved the man 
for bringing such poor little things from their mother. All 
the crowd of camel-drivers and camp-followers expressed 
great satisfaction and an entire concurrence in this cen- 
sure. The bishop promised the man some money if he 
would take them back to the very spot where he had 
picked them up. Two stout waggoner's boys immediately 
volunteered their services to go and keep him to his con- 
tract. On another occasion the bishop was advised to 
take off a joint of his horse's tail. " It was known that 
by how much the tail was made shorter, so much the 
taller the horse grew." He answered, " I could not 
believe that God gave any animal a limb too much, or 
one that tended to its disadvantage, and that as He had 
made my horse so he should remain."* The bishop was 
also very kind to his elephants ; had their allowance 
increased, and, that they might not be wronged, ordered 
the mahout to give them all their grain in presence of a 
sentry. 

IV. Training of the Intellect. — All education is com- 
paratively valueless unless it imparts judgment. Even 
religion itself is of small account, and is apt to be con- 
temned, if it is seen to be injudicious. We cannot pre- 
vent children from imbibing the maxims, tastes, and 

* " This theory of the bishop is more modest than the opinion of 
Sir William Gull, who supposes that man has superfluous members, 
such as the diverticulum of the ileum." — Lancet, Feb. 3 and 10, 

1872. 



206 DULCE DO MUM. 

opinions prevalent in society ; but we shall do much 
to counteract mischief if we teach them to exercise 
their judgment as a filter to their belief. Happy is the 
child that is thus taught to reason and judge, instead 
of being positively imbued with prejudices and antipa- 
thies. Even excellent and well-meaning men are apt to 
err in this respect. The saintly and gifted Keble affords 
a somewhat humiliating illustration, when he tells us how 
he indoctrinated his little nephew. " Tom and I set to 
work and gave little Tom a regular lecture in Toryism 
and High Churchmanship in a large folio Clarendon 
with prints. He snaps at all the Roundheads, and 
kisses all the Cavaliers." * It is wise to teach children 
early to judge of things by their essential reality, and 
not by their outward appendages. Even grown-up 
people judge by the outside, which they would scarcely 
do if they had been taught to scrutinize in youth. We 
might teach children an. object lesson in this way. Sup- 
pose we could remove the gorgeous plumage from the 
bird of paradise, and dress it in a homely sparrow's 
feathers. What then ? Why, then, our admiration dies. 
Conceive, in the same way, kings stripped of their 
crowns, dukes of their coronets, scholars of their hoods, 
and rich men of their wealth ; then judge them. 

One of the most frequent fallacies consists in judging 
by the event. We should judge, and we should teach 
children to judge, of things without reference to the 
result. If they act imprudently, and yet the result is 
prosperous, they should blame themselves as much as 

* Life, p. 181. 



EDUCATION. 207 

if they had failed ; and if they act prudently, and yet 
the result is unfortunate, they should be almost as much 
satisfied as if they had succeeded. The conduct is 
theirs ; the issue is God's. 

It would be of incalculable benefit to children, if they 
were tenderly and discreetly taught the knowledge of 
themselves. How often people grow up in deplorable 
ignorance of that which is near at home ! How often 
do other people know us better than we know ourselves ! 
How often is our character visible to all observers, like a 
brooch which every one but the wearer sees ! 

Thousands are busy training up children in the way 
that they should not go, and that ought to stimulate us 
to train ours up in the way that they should go ; and we 
have the great encouragement of a divine promise, that 
" when they are old they will not depart from it." A youth 
may go astray for a time ; but while experiencing the 
emptiness of the world, the memories of the past will 
keep ringing in his ears. Then conscience awakens as 
one that had been stunned, not dead. Judgment is 
reinstated, and prefers the innocence of childhood to 
the sinfulness of youth. Under the influence of these 
feelings, oftentimes it happens that the wanderer imitates 
Noah's dove, and gladly goes back to the ark again. 

Children are exposed to powerful influences, and that 
at a time when their nature is very susceptible; and, 
therefore, we who have the prerogative of choice, ought 
to bring them under influences that are wholesome. To 
a great extent they will be what we make them. When 
we hear a man plead habit as an extenuation of a fault, 
we are apt to think that he is wholly responsible for 



208 DULCE DO MUM. 

forming the habit and yet, if we knew all, we might 
comprehend parents, relations, and teachers in a joint 
responsibility. 

A parent or teacher acting conscientiously and prayer- 
fully has a right to expect the divine blessing, only he 
must not expect too much. He must not expect that it 
will give a dull child genius ; for that would be contrary 
to Nature's laws. A humming-bird with all its efforts 
will never become an eagle. Still all of us would get 
more than we expect if we earnestly sought for sanctify- 
ing influences from on high. You put a child therefore 
under the very best influences, when you teach him to 
use the ordinary means of grace daily and regularly ; for 
they are the alterative medicines which, without pro- 
ducing any immediate or perceptible effect, gradually 
bring the system from disease to health. 

Noble teachers raise the tone of society, and will yet 
improve it to such a degree, that men will dread a 
malformation of character as much as a personal de- 
formity, they will dread ungraciousness as much as bald- 
ness, they will dread duplicity more than squinting, and 
they will dread misconduct more than club-foot. 

Labouring in an earnest, wise, and religious spirit, the 
humblest teacher may meet with the highest success, and 
.have the felicity of forming a greater than himself; just 
as many a noble cannon has been cast in a mould of 
clay. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

HABIT. 

Habit is that law of human nature by which we 
acquire a facility and an inclination for doing a thing 
by doing it frequently. It is a force of nature as 
real as the principle of gravitation ; and every wise 
man will recognise its power and avail himself of its 
help. 

Every time we make an endeavour to cultivate 
a habit, we put forth an energy, we energise. Energy 
makes habit, and habit makes character. Character is a 
Greek word, and means that which is cut in or marked 
as the impression on a coin. Now habit is the die which 
stamps character on our nature. 

There is in our physical organization, and especially 
where the temperament is nervous, a tendency to repeat 
an action, and that action when repeated becomes 
familiar and easy, and is termed a habit. To form ' a 
habit, therefore, we have only to repeat an act regularly, 
and the energy which we put forth from time to time 
will become periodical and permanent. Marvellous is 
the power of habit, as may be seen in the awkward 
beginnings contrasted with the accomplished movements 

p 



210 DULCE DO MUM. 

of a dancer, a swimmer, or a skater.* In that contrast 
there is a visible demonstration of the perfecting power 
of habit. 

Those who build become builders, and those who 
practise music become musicians ; so men by doing 
just things become just, by doing temperate things 
become temperate, and by doing manly things become 
manly, f 

The virtues therefore are habits, and if they were not 
— if they were merely occasional — they would be little 
worth. Hence it is that the excitement, which is en- 
couraged in some religious societies, is often so dis- 
appointing and perplexing ; for habit does not grow out 
of excitement, but it is developed by a patient continuance 
in well-doing. This explains why resolutions made in 
the heat of the moment often come to nothing, and why 
some superficial teachers, disappointed because habits 
do not spring up like mushrooms, disparage resolutions 
altogether, and send their hearers away resolving to 
resolve no more. Such teachers break down "the 
column of true majesty in man." 

Habit is the great auxiliary power to the weakness of 
man, lessening pains, removing difficulties, and strengthen- 
ing faculties. It can increase talent a hundred-fold. It 
ought not, then, to escape our notice, with what a power- 
ful capacity God has endowed our nature ; and we should 
avail ourselves of this source of strength, and not let it 
run off by a waste pipe. 



* "Exercitatio artem paravit, ars decorem." — Tacit. Ger. 24. 
f Arist. Etb., ii. 1, 4. 



HABIT. 211 

It also lessens pain. If the boatman's hand were 
always tender and sensitive,* the art of rowing would be 
a pain instead of a pleasure, and so in other things \ but 
habit is the great anodyne of human nature, and, under 
its influence, tasks which were at first painful become 
either pleasant, or at least free from pain. 

Habits are often formed whether we intend it or not ; 
they are often the result of unconscious imitation, and 
come with such silence and potency that a man is pos- 
sessed by them before he is aware, This is well seen in 
that peculiarity of spoken language called accent. How 
different is the accent of the courtier and of the rustic, 
— both unconsciously imitated and acquired, and both 
stamped on the tongue for ever. This fact ought to 
arouse the circumspection of the prudent, guarding them 
against the silent and invisible approach of habit, and 
even inducing them to go farther, and investigate the 
genealogy of their habits, and to discriminate between 
the spurious and the genuine. 

Customs being thus formed whether we will or no, the 
deceit of non-intention is very transparent. " I do not 
mean to become intemperate" says the incipient drunkard, 
while he holds the wine-glass in his hand, and while 
he is performing those very acts which constitute in- 
temperance. 

How many morbid growths may thus be developing in 
the character of the heedless and unobservant none can 
tell ; and it may be that they are permitted in order to be 



* An analogy is furnished by the process of tanning, in which 
skin is converted into leather. 



212 DULCE DO MUM. 

indices to others, cautioning them against dangerous 
associations. Thus few prisoners are free from the prison- 
walk ; and it may be assumed that few wicked men are 
free from physiological peculiarities, which, to the obser- 
vant, mark them out as effectually as if they had been 
branded like Cain. 

The habits which are imitated unconsciously are not 
so valuable, in a moral point of view, as those which are 
elaborated by a strong will and a determined perseverance. 
A few tunes picked up by ear are not to be compared to 
the scientific music of an educated player. 

Youth is, above all others, the season to acquire good 
habits and to cast off evil customs, because it is the age 
the most plastic and the most easily moulded. Still, if 
habits have not been formed in due season, they may, by 
vigour and resolution, be formed out of season. There 
are few, however, who, like Blake, could enter the navy 
in old age and become a famous admiral ; few who, like 
Cromwell, could embrace the military profession in his 
forty-fourth year, and become a renowned commander. 
Still, where the mind is kept plastic, it is never too late 
to improve, and that in the best things. The old, defaced, 
and worn-out coins are taken to the mint, melted down, 
stamped afresh, and sent out new and brilliant. 

The increments of habit are small and gradual ; but 
they ought not on that account to be overlooked. Little 
things acquire strength just because they are little ; for 
they thus escape observation, and do not excite jealousy 
or alarm. 

If any one is disposed to flatter himself, because his 
habit is involuntary, that he will escape with impunity, 



HABIT. 213 

let him reflect that he has been brought into this involun- 
tary practice by a thousand voluntary acts. 

If habits are to be permanent and mightily to influence 
the life of men, it is requisite that they should be formed 
on conviction ; for, if they are formed on the mere recom- 
mendation of a great name, they are not likely to be 
lasting. As soon as they become irksome you will be 
tempted to demand, " By what warrant or authority do 
you govern me ? " 

Vast is the power of habit for good or evil ; and a wise 
man will avail himself of the power for good, and eschew 
its power for evil ; since habit is stronger than nature, or 
reason, or taste, and will break through resolutions and 
laws like Leviathan, which esteemeth " iron as straw and 
brass, as rotten wood." 

Habit is stronger than reason. A man may draw 
rational boundary lines for his conduct, and fence himself 
with sound arguments in his hours of calmness, and in 
the hours of intermittence ; but when the ague fit returns 
he overleaps boundary lines, and fences, and the embank- 
ments of Providence itself. 

Habit is stronger than taste. In the case of tobacco 
and spirits many have a positive dislike to them at first. 
By the power of habit the taste is changed ; and unso- 
phisticated likings, both bodily and mental, are ex- 
changed for those which are racy, high-flavoured, and 
piquant. 

Custom is also stronger than laws. An act of Parlia- 
ment could not alter a well-established custom; nor 
could a new and strange custom be formed by the enact- 
ment of the legislature. The strength of the law lies in 



2i 4 DULCE DO MUM. 

national sentiments and habits. The law of Queen 
Elizabeth imposing a fine for absence from church seems 
to have been abrogated by habitual disregard. In the 
same way many canons and rubrics have passed into 
desuetude. General disregard of a law is a general vote 
against it. In the Digests it is asked, " What is the 
difference whether the people declares its will by vote or by its 
conduct ? " * One of the most striking instances in which 
the unwritten law silently abrogates the written enact- 
ment is derived from the attitude of eating the Passover. 
According to the Mosaic rubric it was to be eaten stand- 
ing, as if in haste. Our Lord ate it reclining, in a pos- 
ture of leisure. If people could have appreciated the 
force of this example, it would have saved the Church 
much puerile and barren controversy ; but dogmatism is 
a weed that grows in sterile minds — it is the thistle that 
always indicates a poor soil. 

Some objector may say : Habit is a slavish thing. 
Well, let us see. How is it so ? Because when a man 
gives himself up to its power, he seems to lose his free- 
dom of action. True to some extent; but then he is 
free to choose the habit for himself; he can make wise 
intermissions whenever he pleases ; and he can even 
emancipate himself from it altogether, if he is so disposed. 
Who would say that the sailor was of a servile spirit be- 
cause he put his vessel before the wind? Habit is as 
much an element and force of nature as the wind ; and a 
man will find it alike his profit and wisdom to put himself 



* Digest., lib. L t. 3, fr.. 3?. This is the principle of the motto : 
L Mos pro- lege." 



HABIT. 215 

under the power of both of them, when they blow in the 
right direction. 

Habit, so to speak, invests our acquisitions, and thus is 
adding continually to our permanent stock; in other 
words, it secures our improvement. Otherwise we 
should be always learning and never coming to any 
perfection. And it may be added that it secures not 
merely strength but beauty,, not merely virtues but 
graces, not merely the solid, and the strong, and the 
substantial, but the elegant, the polished, and the 
refined. Characters may be jewelled as well as watches. 
Neither virtue nor grace has the exclusive privilege 
of habit. It is likewise auxiliary to evil — yea, more 
so than to good, owing to the greater sympathy 
there is between nature and evil than between nature 
and good. The growth of evil is more conspicuous 
than the growth of good. In Commodus we see how 
cruelty, in Caesar how ambition, in Byron how pleasure, 
grew with their growth and strengthened with their 
strength; but the growth of roses, as of graces, is neither 
audible nor visible. There is a great difficulty in 
destroying a bad habit, because it has become part of 
our nature. No doubt it was not intended by our 
Creator that it should be easy. Still it may be 
destroyed. " What destroys habit ? " " The opposite 
habit."* Asit was formed, so it must be destroyed by 
a constant succession and frequency of acts. Thus the 
habit of indolence will be destroyed by forming a habit 
of industry. The habit must not be merely suspended, it 

* Ti (p9eipu to tQog ; to Ivavriov iQog. 



2i6 DULCE DO MUM. 

must be removed, otherwise it will come on again and 
again like an epileptic fit. Good habits seem to be more 
easily destroyed than bad ones ; just as health is more 
easily injured than restored. Health may be lost in a 
moment, while a fever may take months to cure, and 
sometimes leaves its effects for life. 

Too frequent or too long interruptions destroy habits. 
A musician out of practice loses facility and accuracy. 
A habit may be destroyed by a decreasing series of 
practice, just as a convict confessed before his execution, 
that he had shortened his prayers till they came to be no 
prayers at all. 

There is a danger in being wedded indissolubly to a 
habit, and in clinging to it merely for the sake of clinging. 
We ought to be open to observation, to example, to 
counsel, and to improvement. Nothing ingrains pre- 
judice more deeply than custom, even when great incon- 
venience is the cost. The barbarians of Germany kept 
up a hereditary prejudice against dwelling-houses, to 
which they applied the odious names of prisons and 
sepulchres. There is also a danger of fancy growing into 
the necessity of custom, and of mere likings and dislikings 
becoming stereotyped by this force. 

Custom so familiarises a man to evil that he no longer 
sees the sinfulness of sin. It first abates and then takes 
away the sense of its ugliness and deformity ; and men 
come to embrace what at first they abhorred.* Now, if 



* Barrow (on Infidelity, v. ii. 82) had anticipated Pope's famous 
line : — 

" We first endure, then pity, then embrace." 



HABIT. 217 

this be true, there arises a consideration of the greatest 
importance, for it shows that habit can alter our opinion 
and our judgment. 

There is a nobler kind of prejudice or rather partiality, 
when a man out of gratitude to an idea gives it an undue 
prominence in his life. Such fondness, when cherished 
by habit, sometimes develops into monomania. When 
indulged in a lesser degree it may give an undue colouring 
to character. Yet the cherishing of one principle carries 
along with it great force, thought and feeling being con- 
centrated, and distraction of energy being prevented. 
There is an analogy to this process in our bodies, for he 
who chiefly exercises his arms may render them athletic, 
while the other parts of his system may be ill-developed ; 
whereas he who has exercised his body equally may not 
have pre-eminent force in any one member, yet health 
and strength in all. 

The Creator has given to every man a general and a 
peculiar character, just as He gives to every one a human 
form and special features. He does not wish to destroy 
the peculiarity and reduce all to one monotonous cast, 
for he delights in variety. How tame would be a gallery 
of statues all alike; hundreds of busts and yet only one, 
all copies of each other, all sameness and all monotony. 
We must not expect men, because they are religious, to 
crystallize into uniformity. What have monks, Quakers, 
and Moravians gained by such experiments? On the 
other hand, if one cultivates the peculiar characteristics 
in excess, he must be classified among the eccentric. 
These form a very small minority among men, and their 
judgment is ever questioned ; so that eccentricity is so 



2i8 DULCE DOMUM. 

much deducted from one's reputation and influence. 
Hence it appears that characters as well as bodies may 
be weak, mis-shapen, and deformed. 

Habit being periodical renders our conduct regular 
and consistent, so that if we omit the habit, the omission 
makes us feel uneasy. It is in this way both a reminder 
and a safeguard. The feeling of uneasiness acts as a 
monitor and a stimulus, and is another instance of the 
manifold and benevolent foresight with which human 
nature has been constructed. 

It must not be disguised that it is quite possible to run 
into an excess of discipline, and to make life precise, 
slavish,, and monotonous. This was the mistake of the 
Emperor Julian. The minute instructions which regu- 
lated the service of his table and the distribution of his 
hours were adapted to a youth still under the discipline 
of his preceptors, rather than to the situation of a prince 
intrusted with the conduct of a great war.* The mistake 
lay in forgetting that habits suitable for early youth may 
not be suitable for mature age. f Students leaving college 
and entering on the business of life should bear in mind 
the mistake of Julian. 

How few set to work deliberately to form character by 
selecting and forming habits ! Men in this matter are not 
like themselves. When they build a house, they have 
plans and designs ; but how do they prepare to rear up 
the edifice of character? Do they consider what style 
will be noblest and best for them ? Do they sketch a 



* Gibbon, " History," c. xix. 

f " Idem manebat, idem non decebat." — Cic. 



HABIT. 21 g 

design? Do they determine what parts shall be most 
prominent, and what shall be most subdued ? Seldom do 
men take such pains to form their character. It is 
oftenestleft like a cloud to be shaped by winds and other 
casual influences, whereas every man ought to take an 
active part in fashioning himself. This is the active 
education, the other is oftenest passive. 

How we prize character may be seen in the ordinary 
affairs of life. All know what a pleasure it is to have a 
conscientious, punctual, and obliging tradesman ; and he 
in turn finds that, wherever there is a character for 
integrity, there will be an afflux of confidence. Looking 
at a higher class, are we not impressed by a look, 
fascinated by a smile, charmed by a pleasantry, interested 
by an opinion, and, in a word, magnetized by a character 
that is compounded of great, and good, and graceful 
habits ? 



CHAPTER XV. 



HEALTH. 



Health is that condition in which the body performs 
all its functions easily, and thereby imparts to the whole 
man a consciousness of strength and an enjoyment of 
life : where the sensation is so keen that little pleasures 
are relished,* and the endurance is so strong that little 
pains are despised. Health intensifies the pleasure of 
food, and drink, and sleep ; it makes sights and sounds 
more interesting and more enjoyable; it sweetens the 
temper, and it makes the mind more calm, judicious, 
and fertile. Then labour is welcomed as a delight- 
some exercise, and life is felt to be an inexpressible 
blessing. 

Such is health, and a mighty blessing it is ; and to 
be retained or regained by a care of the body ; and 
yet this body has been depreciated, disparaged, vilified, 
denounced, impeached, condemned, cursed, scourged, 
and mutilated by theologians f scholastic and mystical, 



* " (Voluptas summa) in te ipso est." — Hor. Sat., ii. 2, 19. 
f Notwithstanding St. Paul's disapproval of the " neglecting of 
the body." — Col. ii. 23. 



HEALTH. 221 

who had wedded a religion divorced from science. Even 
such a large mind as Shakespeare's was not unaffected 
with this morbid feeling, and he makes some of his 
characters speak of the body as a vile prison,* and as 
a grave. 

Those who look back with an ignorant veneration 
upon mediaeval religion, may be surprised to learn how 
superstition could torment and degrade the wondrous 
and glorious body which God has given us. Let us 
take the case of Archbishop Becket. When his corpse 
was stripped, the whole body down to the knees was 
found incased in hair-cloth ; and the whole so fastened 
together as to admit of being readily taken off for his 
daily scourgings, of which yesterday's portion was still 
apparent in the stripes on his body. Such marvellous 
austerity was increased by the sight of the innumerable 
vermin with which the hair-cloth abounded — boiling over 
with them, as one account describes it, like water in a 
simmering caldron. + 

It is passing strange that it never occurred to those 
despisers that in damaging the instrument they were 
diminishing its usefulness. Strange that it never occurred 
to these calumniators that in maltreating the body they 
were dishonouring its Maker; but that was at a time 
when God allowed a whole world to relapse into igno- 



* Plato also regarded it as dpynog (Phaedon, c. xxxiii.) ; and at 
c. x. he speaks of the eyes and ears, and, in a word, the whole body, 
as disturbing the soul, and not suffering it to acquire truth and 
wisdom, when it is in communion with it. 

f Dean Stanley's "Historical Memorials of Canterbury," p. 75. 



222 DULCE DOMUM. 

ranee and superstition. How much in advance of these 
Christians was the heathen Galen, who is said to have 
been so struck with admiration and reverence at the 
anatomy of a human body, and the fitness and use of 
every bone, muscle, and vein, that he gave vent to his 
enthusiasm in a hymn of praise to the Creator. If we 
look on Cicero as a representative Roman, he speaks 
wisely, so far as he knows. In a single sentence * he 
says : " Health is preserved by a knowledge of one's own 
constitution ; and by observing what things are wont to 
do us good or harm ; and by moderation in all food and 
manner of living, for the sake of preserving the body; 
and by self-denial in pleasures ; and last of all, by the 
skill of those to whose profession these things belong." 
His practice corresponded — he lived in a frugal manner. 
He rarely took his meal before sunset — a "rule which he 
thought suitable to the weakness of his stomach. He 
had stated hours for rubbing and walking. By this 
care he acquired sufficient health and strength for his 
great labours and fatigues. t 

Monastic notions seem to have influenced the com- 
pilers of the English Liturgy negatively ; for there is no 
eulogium of the body, no prayer for its health, no thanks- 
giving for its functional regularity. The Jews escaped 
this pernicious influence, and hence their daily acknow- 
ledgment. " Blessed art thou, O Lord ! our God, King 
of the Universe, who hath formed man in wisdom, 
and created in him pipes, tubes, veins, and arteries. 
It is manifestly known before the throne of thy glory, 

* Cic, De Off., ii. 24. f Plut. in Cic. 



HEALTH. 223 

that if but one of them was opened, or stopped, it would 
be impossible for any creature to exist." * 

Hygiene was a part of the ancient religion of the 
Jews. Practically they put cleanliness next to godliness. 
Their most characteristic laws were founded on true 
sanitary principles. The swine swallowing all sorts of 
food is especially liable to be infected with worms, and 
to become measled ; and when the measly pork is eaten 
the tapeworm and such-like parasites are very apt to 
enter the human body. Blood was also forbidden, and 
modern science has justified the prohibition by demon- 
strating that blood is the most putrescible part of an 
animal. 

Although there may not be now much positive ill- 
treatment of the body, yet there is still great neglect ; 
and health and even life itself are being constantly 
sacrificed through carelessness. Thousands of men and 
women are cut off prematurely because they either do not 
know or do not study how to take care of their bodies. 
Thousands are killed for want of a little cautiousness. 
We are appalled when we hear of the slaughter on a 
battle-field; but cholera, typhus, and their allies make 
far greater havoc, only in a quieter and less dramatic way. 
Science is now showing how all this, or most of it, is 
preventible, and how, if each one would take care of 
health, we could save in this empire at the present day a 
quarter of a million of lives per annum. From these 



* From the Tephilloth, or Daily Form of Prayers for the Jews. 
I am indebted for this reference to the courtesy of the Chief Rabbi, 
Dr. Adler. 



224 DULCE DOMUM. 

general facts the inference may be drawn for the comfort 
and encouragement of individuals, that generally a large 
gift of caution is equivalent to a large gift of health. 
Physiological knowledge would be another equivalent; 
for it teaches the delicacy of our structure, the easiness 
of its derangement, and the method of healthy action 
and management.* 

It ought to be a cause of thankfulness, if we are placed 
in positions that are favourable, or even not hurtful to 
health. This thankful reflection will be stimulated, if we 
bear in mind how many suffer from unhealthy trades and 
employments. Thackrah gives an alarming list of work- 
men, such as millers and masons, who are injuriously 
affected by the dust of their trades. Then there is " the 
potters' asthma," " the brassfounders' ague," " the lead- 
poisoning of painters," "the trembles of silverers and 
gilders," and a dreary list of others, which it would be 
melancholy to reproduce. It is pleasant to think that 
there are noble men engaged in revealing the sore dis- 
tresses of their brethren, and in striving to alleviate or to 
prevent their maladies ; and, if we are in earnest, we shall 
do something more than merely wish them God speed. 

The occupation may not be unhealthy, and yet it may 
be pursued with such intensity or with such continuity as 
greatly to injure health. Students and literary men are 
very apt to err in this particular, and in consequence 
suffer from all the evils of dyspepsia. Not too much is a 



* Aristotle had a glimpse of this truth ; at least he notes the 
fact, but does not offer any explanation. *E<m dk Tig icai x w P l S 
iaxvog icai vyu'iag dWt] dvvajxig fiaKpo(3ioTT]Tog. — Rhet. i. 5, 15. 



HEALTH. 225 

good rule in work. If we do all gently and moderately, 
we shall in the end do more and do it better and more 
comfortably than by excessive effort. 

Climate is one of the principal influences on health. 
Doubtless vigour is often owing to the atmosphere we 
breathe ;* just as languor and heaviness are produced by 
impure air. The same man feels a different person in fresh 
and bracing air, and in a close and murky sky. This may 
explain why the Greeks and Romans have degenerated. 
It is probably because the climate has deteriorated. 
There could not have been so much malaria in the old 
times. No man's health is safe if he does not know the 
value of pure air. Oftentimes the atmosphere is laden 
with countless germs, with myriads of infusoria, and with 
suspended matters, so that the pure air becomes organic 
vapour. Let there be abundant ventilation. God may 
supply the most balmy climate, but if we confine it and 
vitiate it in our houses, it is of no avail. Sometimes an 
evil of this sort is tolerated for a long while in order to 
avoid a little trouble. A very small leakage of gas will 
be permitted to exist for months and even years because 
of the difficulty of taking up floors and carpets. Yet all 
the while there has been a real damage to health. There 
is also a fallacy in disinfectants and deodorants. They 
may be auxiliaries, but they ought never to be regarded 
as substitutes for fresh air. They may even mask the 
presence of a most subtle enemy, and allow the sewage 
gas to escape undetected into the house, and produce 
typhoid, diarrhoea, and cholera. 

* Tacitus says that the Mattiaci resemble the Batavi, "nisi quod 
ipso adhuc terrae suae solo et caelo acrius animantur." — Germ. 29. 

Q 



226 DULCE DOMUM. 

Pure water is no less important than pure air ; and it 
is one of the most material elements of health. Many a 
one has lost his life from neglecting to keep the cistern 
clean. It is a little fact well worthy the study of the 
unwary that impure water is often more palatable than 
that which is pure. Happily filters are now within the 
reach of all, and a little money spent in such sanitary 
inventions is among the very best investments. Equally 
important is water as an agent in cleansing, in removing 
perspiration and other impurities, in preserving and im- 
proving the action of the skin, and in promoting the 
general health. 

A man, if he can, should also choose his dwelling 
with reference to the soil. Generally gravel soils are 
healthy, and clay soils are damp. He who attends to air, 
water, and soil must also attend to exercise. If his daily 
business does not supply him with sufficient bodily 
exertion, he must in some way exercise his muscles and 
strengthen them to perform their functions. The 
simplest methods are the best— walking, riding, boating, 
swimming ;* but in these days, when athletics are adored, 
it is well to bear in mind that haemoptysis, palpitation, 
and even rupture attend upon violent gymnastics. 

What a man eats and drinks — what sort it is and how 
much — has a great deal to do with health. That the 
simplest diet and drink is capable of sustaining and pro- 
longing life is what might have been expected from the 



* Seaside experience gives a caution here. Does not the art of 
swimming render many reckless, and would not a large proportion 
of the drowned be ascertained to be swimmers ? 



HEALTH. 22- 

Great Disposer of all things, who has made all his best 
gifts common ; and hence we find as many centenarians 
among the peasantry as we find among the aristocracy. 
The result of rough observation is that more suffer from 
too much than from too little, and that those who are 
fond of good dinners and sparkling wines pay heavy 
penalties, in the shape of headaches, oppression, langour, 
and biliousness/ 1 ' inflictions which interfere very much 
with happiness, usefulness, and respect. 

Bad health makes a man unduly sensitive. An invalid 
is a living barometer ; he aches when the wind is in the 
east, is frozen up in the north wind, is full of depression 
when the sky lowers. One may notice children fretful 
on a dull day. The flesh is weak, and it seems as if anger 
were the expression of physical suffering. It is believed 
that Calvin's intense study injured his digestive organs, 
and rendered him a life-long sufferer. No wonder that 
he was morose. It were an interesting question how far 
the sternness of his doctrines was owing to this fact, and 
a still more interesting question how many thousands 
have suffered owing to his bad digestion. 

Ill health often renders men unequal to their duties, 
and makes them burdens to their friends or to society. But 
the man who takes care of health is assistant to society 
and wishes society to last and to prosper, that he may still 
enjoy its blessings. f 

* " Jovemque morantur." — Persius, Sat. ii. 43. 

f Nicias or Thucydides noted that it was the part of a good 
citizen to take some forethought both for his person and his pro- 
perty ; for such a man, for his own sake, would be very desirous} 
that his country should prosper. — Thucyd. vi. 9. 



228 DULCE DOMUM. 

The care and preservation of health is, therefore, a great 
act, and a great means of independence ; and hygiene 
is thus raised to the high position of a personal and 
social duty. He who has been early imbued with these 
views may account it a real blessing. To many, in after- 
life, a book or a lecture on physiology * applied to the 
preservation of health comes like a revelation. 

Hygiene loses its high character, when it degenerates 
into hypochondria. We somehow feel an antipathy 
towards those who are over-anxious about their health ; 
and in their case, as well as in that of others, is the say- 
ing verified, "he that loveth his life shall lose it: " the hypo- 
chondriac does lose it, for his enjoyment of life is ever 
corroded by anxiety. 

Still hypochondria is only an abuse of hygiene, and a 
moderate care is of such importance, that a sickly body 
with a knowledge of physiology might safely be preferred 
to a robust constitution with ignorance of the laws of 
health. No doubt it is owing to the spread of physiolo- 
gical knowledge that an eminent statesman f can speak 
of these times as days of prolonged maturity. Certainly 
the body, instead of being abused and contemned, is now 
treated as an important partner, whose co-operation must 
be earnestly sought in any great intellectual or spiritual 
work. 

Of all the mental dispositions that influence health 
favourably, cheerfulness is the most potent. Joy, hope, 
mirth, laughter, especially if innocent, stimulate the 



* Such as the admirable book of Dr. Andrew Combe, 
f The Right Hon. B. Disraeli in " Lothair." 



HEALTH. 229 

respiration and circulation, and aid the various organs to 
perform all their functions smoothly and powerfully. But 
that kind of mirth which ends in heaviness, and in a word 
all the depressing passions, retard and weaken functional 
action, and eventually impair health. This had not 
escaped the wonderful observer who writes : — 

" He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy ; 
And so she died : had she been light, like you, 
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, 
She might ha' been a grandam ere she died : 
And so may you ; for a light heart lives long." * 

When we see what has been done on a great scale, we 
ought to take courage and try what we can do on a small 
scale. We have seen ague eradicated by drainage, scurvy 
driven away by diet, smallpox exterminated by vaccina- 
tion ; and this should lead us to believe in the power to 
prevent disease, and in the benefits which individuals 
may derive from acting according. to the laws of health. 

However, it is fated that as new helps and new bless- 
ings arise, so new dangers and new diseases follow them. 
Thus sanitary improvements lessen the mortality from 
epidemics ; but owing to the excitement and competition 
of these times, diseases of the heart and brain have in- 
creased.! 

The physician and the surgeon are deservedly in high 
and increasing esteem; and he who consults them is 
wise. At the same time one must respect them neither 
too much nor yet too little. Some of them exaggerate 
illness either to exonerate themselves from failure or to 

* "Love's Labour's Lost," v. 2. 

t Brit. Med. Journal [Times, Mar. 25, 1872). 



230 DULCE DOMUM. 

magnify their cure ; and others perhaps without any 
motive at all speak very unguardedly. When Wilberforce 
was about twenty-eight years of age he was very ill, and 
a consultation of the chief physicians of the day ended 
in the declaration to his family, " That he had not 
stamina to last a fortnight." * Yet he lived to be nearly 
seventy-four. 

Such mistakes ought not to lead to contempt, and to 
a violation of their prescriptions and rules. He who does 
so, does it at his peril. The case of Hephaestion, Alex- 
ander's friend, illustrates the impatience of thousands. 
As a young man and a soldier, he could not bear to be 
kept to strict diet in his illness ; and taking the oppor- 
tunity to dine, when his physician Glaucus had gone to 
the theatre, he ate a roasted fowl, and drank a flagon of 
wine made as cold as possible ; in consequence of which 
he grew worse, and died a few days after. 

It is the part of an imprudent man to pay no attention 
to health till he is ill. Even the antiquated Ecclesi- 
asticus knew better than this, and advises (xviii. 19) 
to " use physic or ever thou be sick." f But a wise 
man nowadays knows that there are many precautions 
against illness besides physic, and has as much confidence 
and more pleasure in pure air, pure water, wholesome 
food, seasonable clothing, and gentle exercise ; and he 
will attend to these more especially when he perceives 
that the system is falling below the healthy standard. 

The Shakers, who have no doctors among them, and 
smile at our Gentile ailments — headaches, fevers, colds, 

* Life, i. 169. 

f CL also Persius, iii. 64 — "venienti occurrite morbo." 



HEALTH. 23 1 

and what not — take a close and scientific care of their 
ventilation. Every building is ventilated. Stoves warm 
the rooms in winter, with an adjustment delicate enough 
to keep the temperature for weeks within one degree 
of warmth. Fresh air is the Shaker medicine. "We 
have only had one case of fever in thirty-six years," 
says Antoinette : " and we are very much ashamed of 
ourselves for having had it ; it was wholly our fault." * 

It is a common-place remark, and therefore less likely 
to be pondered, that we never know the value of a 
blessing till we have lost it ; yet health unobtrusively 
blesses infancy, youth, and age. It is that which makes 
the child gleesome, the man energetic, and which makes 
" December smile." Health gives especially a capacity 
for appreciating all the good things of life. The bee 
sucks up sweet matter from the flower-cups, and to a 
healthy man who is at the same time wise all nature 
is full of flower-cups, and all the flower-cups full of 
honey. 

Health improves even the physiognomy. Every one 

knows the pained, dejected look of the invalid; and 

knows as well the bright and buoyant look of the healthy. 

In the case of the one we are apt to pity and pass 

away ; the other has a passport to our society and 

hearts at once. The human face is an index of the 

temper within, and health is generally allied to kindness. 

They co-operate with each other, and then we have 

"A face with gladness overspread ! 
Sweet looks, by human kindness bred !"f 

* Hepworth Dixon's "New America," ii. 91. 
f Wordsworth. 



232 DULCE DO MUM. 

This is the beauty that lasts and pleases when the 
grace of outline and colour has passed away, and 
when the haughty beauty undervalues her mirror, say- 
ing : " Such as I am, I am not willing to behold myself ; 
and such as I was once, I cannot see." * Still it would 
be a cruel mistake to assert that the face is always an 
index ; for some people both healthy and good resemble 
rock crystal, dark outside, but internally iridescent. All 
that is maintained is that there is a close connection 
between the physical and the moral, and this is an old 
doctrine f confirmed by new science ; and that generally 
virtue and vice write their hieroglyphics on the body as 
indelible as tattoo marks. 

It is a higher praise of health that it makes the body 
an excellent instrument for the soul to work with, makes 
it keen, makes it strong, makes it enduring. Shake- 
speare says, " It is the mind that makes the body rich ;" 
and the converse is quite as true : It is the body that 
makes the mind rich ; and probably fine intellectual pro- 
ducts bear a proportion to the fine health of the brain. % 

Health is also a handmaid of religion. How much of 
the inhuman and unnatural religion of Mystics and 
Puritans may have been owing to their sedentary lives, to 
deranged livers, to diseased hearts. Sickness may be ot 
use in calling the attention of the thoughtless to God, 

* Greek Anthology, xc. Westminster Selection. 

f o'ikojv d' ap' evQvdiKujv 
KaWiiraig 7r6r[iog dti. 

iEsch. Agam., 761. 

£ " Utrumque per se indigens, alterum alterius auxilio eget." — 
Sail. Cat, i. 



HEALTH. 233 

but for the cultivation of a rational, happy, infectious 
religion, health is a semi-divine influence. George 
Combe * has pointed out a remarkable contradiction 
between the experience and the theory of Hannah 
More. In her journal in 1794 she says: — " Confined 
this week with four days' headach — an unprofitable 
time— thoughts wandering — little communion with God. 
I see, by every fresh trial, that the time of sickness is 
seldom the season for religious improvement. This great 
work should be done in health, or it will seldom be 
done well." This passage is full of sound sense ; but it 
contradicts her previous assertion, that " nervous head- 
achs and low fevers are wonderfully wholesome for moral 
health." Rousseau has expressed the truth in an epigram 
as true as it is paradoxical, when he says, " The stronger 
the body, the more it obeys ; the weaker the body, the 
more it commands." 

Those who have inherited a sound constitution and 
who enjoy robust health, who are free from pain and un- 
conscious of nervousness, may easily have a good 
temper, and that good-nature which approaches to virtue 
and yet cannot be deemed virtuous. It would be a great 
mistake, therefore, if they assumed to be meritorious, 
when they are only healthy. 

Ignorance is the great hindrance both to popular and 
individual health. Could science devise a more effectual 
propagation of the plague than ignorance has done? 
When an Osmanlee dies, it is usual to cut up one of his 
dresses, and to send a small piece of it to each of his 

[.* " Constitution of Man," p. 46. 



234 DULCE DOMUM. 

friends as a memorial— a fatal present.* This folly 
strikes us more because it is a foreign custom, but we 
have the same essential ignorance at home. We have ill- 
ventilated rooms, unclean sed cisterns, ill-drained towns, 
excessive drinking, adulterated food, the infectious re- 
moved in public conveyances, the dead detained in 
small dwellings, — all in violation of the elementary laws 
of health. These abuses cannot last in an enlightened 
country. The spread of physiological knowledge is 
surely reaching those classes from whom our legislators 
are elected, and therefore we may look forward hope- 
fully to a philanthropic legislation, which shall first 
improve the sanitary condition of the public, and, by 
consequence, of the individual. Then in due season, 
the number of homes will be vastly multiplied in which 
there will be heard the twin-voices of joy and health, 

* " Eothen," p. 44. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

TEMPER. 

Every one who is conversant both with morals and with 
science will see that there must be a rectification of the 
boundaries of ethics. Writers who have treated mental 
science without reference to the body are as unphilo- 
sophical as those who should discuss agriculture without 
reference to the soil ; for does it make no difference 
whether seed is sown in a clay, chalky, or sandy soil ? 
Does it make no difference as to fertility and vegetation ? 
The soil exerts a vast influence, but yet not a greater 
influence than does the body upon the soul enveloped 
within it. If the body is diseased or healthy, flabby or 
firmly knit, languid or vigorous, the soul partakes, and 
often to a high degree, of the peculiar constitution. 
Now the limits of ethics must be enlarged, so as to 
include physiology ; and from this extension no mental 
quality will derive so much advantage as temper — a 
genuine hybrid, which has a physical as well as a moral 
origin. 

There are discoveries to be made in morals as well as 
in science. Are there no discoveries on the subject of 
temper? Certainly there are. The milk which the child 



236 DULCE DOMUM. 

sucks renders it either placid or irritable : in a word, 
produces its temper. The infant of an ill-fed, ill-con- 
ditioned, and ill-tempered woman will be peevish and 
fretful ; the infant of a well-fed, healthy, and happy- 
woman will be quiet and cheerful.* 

Whatever affects health affects temper, — not only the 
nutriment, but the natural constitution itself, or a pre- 
dominance of nervousness, or an over-exertion of any of 
our faculties. The name of Dr. Baillie is inscribed in 
the roll of our eminent physicians. During many years, 
he was in the habit of devoting sixteen hours of each 
day to business : he often paid visits to his patients until 
a late hour at night. His physical frame was not so 
strong as his resolution, and the sword began to wear 
out the sheath. An irritability of mind involuntarily 
contended against his natural kindness of heart. He 
frequently came to his own table after a day of fatigue, 
and held up his hands to the family circle eager to wel- 
come him home, saying, " Don't speak to me ; " and 
then presently, after a glass of wine, and when the tran- 
sitory cloud had cleared away from his brow, with a 
smile of affection, he would look round, and exclaim, 
"You may speak to me now." f 

The life of another physician, Gooch, supplies us with 
another illustration. The uneasy sensation of bodily dis- 

* An eccentric old physician, to whom Cambridge owes Caius 
College, reverted in his last sickness to the nourishment of infant 
life ; and a medical brother has preserved the moral result of the 
experiment. As the story is interesting, but might be distasteful to 
some, the reader is merely referred to "Lives of Brit. Phys.," 
p. 29. 

t " Lives of Brit. Phys.," p. 242. 



TEMPER. 237 

order made him incapable of enjoying anything, as he said, 
for more than a moment. It had an influence upon his 
literary taste, so that few books which he read gave him 
pleasure ; and there were still fewer people whose con- 
versation he could tolerate for more than a short time. 
Ill-health made him painfully fastidious." 

Doubtless, then, the true way to improve temper is to 
improve health ; but even where the natural constitution 
is unfavourable, intellectual, moral, and spiritual in- 
fluences may modify or overcome the irritable disposi- 
tion. It would have enhanced the value of Macaulay's 
sketch of the Lord Keeper Somers, if he could have 
explained the facts which he narrates. His good temper 
and his good breeding never failed. His gesture, 
his look, his tones, were expressive of benevolence. 
His humanity was the more remarkable, because he 
had received from nature a body such as is generally 
found united with a peevish and irritable mind. His 
life was one long malady ; his nerves were weak ; his 
complexion was livid ; his face was prematurely wrinkled. 
Yet his enemies could not pretend that he had ever 
once, during a long and troubled public life, been 
goaded, even by sudden provocation, into vehemence in- 
consistent with the mild dignity of his character.! 

The best of men are, like Moses, liable on occasions 
to speak " unadvisedly with their lips." Yea, the entire 
absence of anger would be a defect. " How," it was 
asked, " can Charilaus be a good man, who is not angry 
even with the bad?" J If a. good man must sometimes 

* "Lives of Brit. Phys.," p. 332. 
f " Hist, of Eng.," vii. 72. % Plut. Lye, v. 



238 DULCE DOMUM. 

be discomposed, yet the old Latin saying will hold true 
of him : "Anger soon dies with a good man." 

Whatever vexes, disappoints, perplexes, or defeats 
seems to affect the brain and nervous system, and to 
infuse vehemence or peevishness into one's words, actions, 
and manner, and the irritability lasts after the occasion 
has passed away,* and is transferred to persons who 
come next into contact. Under such disquietude nothing 
seems right, but we should bear in mind for such an 
occasion that things are right nevertheless. 

Disappointment is apt to disorder the temper, whether 
of a queen or of a commoner. When Queen Mary 
was disappointed she vented her spleen on her Protestant 
subjects in much the same way as a disappointed mother 
is apt to discharge her anger upon her children. People 
who have not succeeded in life, who complain of their 
lot,f who think that others have got on unfairly or by 
chance, and that they ought to have had higher places 
and better rewards, are among the disappointed. Some 
of these are also full of rancour, dropping acids into 
others' innocent joy, delighting in depreciatory criticism, 
retailing spiteful epigrams and malignant anecdotes, 
accusing patrons of partiality and God himself of unfair- 
ness. Surely heavenly beings must wonder at these 
envious nobodies as we wonder at the red ants, astonished 
how such small bodies can contain so large an amount of 
ill-nature. 

Controver y also produces an irritating effect; for 

* A book or a paper displaced in his study would prevent 
JSloliere writing for days. — Moliere, " Characters," p. 264. 

f [IffX^ifiOlpOl. 



TEMPER. 239 

often in the process a man's ideas become confused, and 
his personal vanity is wounded ; he is annoyed at not 
convincing, he is assailed by new doubts, he is shaken by 
the confidence of antagonists ; and the humiliating fact 
must be admitted, he has a venom-bag and must dis- 
charge it. There was one Philpot, Archdeacon of Win- 
chester, in Queen Mary's reign, inflamed with such zeal 
for orthodoxy that, having been engaged in dispute with 
an Arian, he spit in his adversary's face to show the 
great detestation which he had entertained against that 
heresy. He said he was led into this unmannerliness in 
order to relieve his sorrow — a convenient word by which 
people hope to disguise their anger. 

Theologians have been taunted with odium, and not 
unjustly, but lawyers have rivalled them in acrimonious 
language. Sir Edward Coke, the famous lawyer, managed 
the case for the Crown against Sir Walter Raleigh, and 
abused him with the names of " traitor," " monster," 
" viper," and " spider of hell." And yet he, who was so 
vilified, was one of the most illustrious men of his time. 

From melancholy short is the path to anger, for one 
who is depressed is ill at ease, and in no happy mood ; 
and of course the outcomings of such a condition must 
correspond. From suffering there flows naturally repining, 
fretfulness, and captiousness ; and sometimes where there 
is any personal defect, this being ever present, is apt to 
be a constant irritant and to inflame the temper. 

Admonition ruffles the mind as a stone ruffles the lake. 
This is the case especially with the self-satisfied, for 
reproof disturbs their complacency. Some think it 
manly to repay advice with anger, but it is not. The 



240 DULCE DO MUM. 

intelligent receive admonition with thankfulness ; it is 
the child that quarrels with the medicine. And here it 
may be observed that the more reasonable a man is 
the less is he apt to be angry, for he appreciates his 
friend's remonstrance or his opponent's arguments as 
well as his own, and looks from the point of view of the 
antagonist as well as from his own. Thus seeing both 
sides, his view is enlarged and must be modified, and in 
consequence his anger is mitigated ; but the passionate 
man refuses to look on the other side, and fixes his mind 
intently on his own grievance, till his eye becomes 
dazzled and his anger intensified by this concentrated 
gaze ; so that we may say an angry man is generally a 
man of narrow views. 

The manifestations of anger are unpleasing to behold. 
The eyes glaring, the cheeks flushed, the face distorted, 
the whole body trembling with passion. How spiteful it 
is, and how small it makes itself! The Syriac contro- 
versialists gave vent to their orthodox animus by writing 
the names of heretics upside down. The cynical critic 
has a pike's tongue with teeth upon it, for when he 
speaks he bites. On the contrary, composure, gentle- 
ness, and meekness are engaging and win our sympathy. 
Marvellous and admirable is the arrangement by which 
the oyster when irritated excretes a pearl, and equally 
admirable is the moral process by which one who is pro- 
voked gives out the pearly substance meekness. 

Science is likely to discover more reasons for forbear- 
ance than theology has done, for it shows that anger is 
often the effect of physical causes, that it is inherited 
like other disorders, and that a man is scarcely more 



TEMPER. 241 

responsible for an evil temper than he is for poor blood. 
It would be both wise and kind in dealing with the ill- 
tempered to reflect on the inheritance of temperament, 
and compassionately to bear in mind that bristles show 
the breed ; also to notice how an east wind makes a man 
peevish, how indigestion makes him cantankerous, and 
how a full moon excites him into a paroxysm of rage. 
The causes being periodical, it might be expected that 
the outbreaks would also be periodical ; and this is, in 
fact, to some extent the case.* Often, for instance, at 
the full moon goodness is felt to be slow and tedious, t 
and pent-up feelings find an outlet in an explosion of 
passion. 

There is another humane consideration which ought 
to influence us in cultivating temper. Suppose you are 
provoked by some feeble irritant (and it is often harder 
to bear with the weak than with the wicked), an intel- 
lectual giant ought to pity an ignorant antagonist just as 
an athlete would feel compassion in wrestling with a 
rickety child. 

Sometimes actual disease frets the nervous system, 
and destroys the temper. That admirable clergyman, 
Frederick W. Robertson, of Brighton, often gave way to 
irritability and eccentricity ; but it was all explained and 
palliated by the dissecting knife, for it disclosed an 
abscess on the brain. The last days of Napoleon were 
sullied by fits of passion, by complaints, and wild out- 

* After three or four weeks of good behaviour a prisoner will say, 
" It's no good going on like this ; here's for a row — who'll help 
me ? " — "Prison Characters," i. 264. 

f Impatientia boni. 



242 DULCE DO MUM. 

bursts ; but after death the anatomist discovered a cancer 
in the stomach, which explained and condoned these 
offences of temper. Surely the argument that avails with 
God ought to avail with man : " He remembereth that we 
are dust" And when it does avail, then the lapses of the 
backslider will receive as much sympathy as the fits of 
the epileptic. Of course this physical view, while it ex- 
tenuates the guilt, at the same time diminishes the moral 
value of temper, except in those cases where, in spite of 
adverse influences from within and from without, a man 
strives, by God's grace, for a sweet disposition. This 
divine influence is widely different from mere politic 
management. The one alters, the other hides. Polite- 
ness does thus much — it deodorizes temper, and takes 
away its most offensive qualities, but leaves the evil still 
in the heart. 

One fallacy of temper is to attribute to malice what is 
in reality the result of inconsideration. Thus Jacob up- 
braids his son Judah, asking, " Wherefore dealt ye so 
with me, as to tell the man whether ye had yet a 
brother?" The patriarch was the type of multitudes, 
who, when vexed, make no allowance for motives or in- 
tentions, but only look at their annoyance, and, while 
judging after the event, unreasonably require that others 
should have judged before. 

Anger is confused, and cannot discriminate. It is 
also often meaningless, for, being excited, it uses words 
of dislike and menace, which are not really meant. An 
amusing instance of the unintelligence of anger may be 
taken from the French Revolution. The people thought 
the Veto an enemy, who should be hanged ; and demanded 



TEMPER. 243 

that he should be suspended by the lamp-post. A scarcely 
less absurd instance is found in the life of Calvin. Some 
conspirators in Geneva were tried in their absence, and 
sentenced to lose their heads ; and as their persons 
could not be taken, the sentence was executed on their 
effigies. 

Anger often seems to be a species of insanity, and 
more especially when it is vented on the dead. How 
basely did the Emperor Basil I. act in shooting three 
arrows into the head of his dead enemy, and how un- 
worthy was the Jewish bigotry that inscribed the sentence 
of excommunication on the tomb of the famous Mai- 
monides. 

" The madness of the people " is only ill-temper on a 
large scale ; but its effects are proportionally disastrous. 
The Dutch gave way to an insane burst of passion on an 
occasion of public suffering. They attacked the bravest 
captains and the ablest statesmen of the distressed com- 
monwealth. De Ruyter was insulted by the rabble. 
De Witt was torn in pieces. But the Dutch need not be 
singled out. The history of most nations would afford 
instances of popular frenzy. 

We should especially bear with those who have been 
previously vicious, and have become reformed. We 
should make allowance, for Christianity has in such 
cases been grafted upon a wild stock, and the crab-tree 
may yet yield good fruit. It will dispose us to this 
tolerant spirit, if we become conscious how rough and 
imperfect we ourselves are in God's sight. Under the 
microscope the finest and smoothest needle is seen to be 
rough. 



244 DULCE DO MUM. 

Alexander the Great allowed his temper so to grow 
upon him, that he became terrible to his best friends. 
No doubt in generous minds there is a reaction as there 
was in his, and some people after they have hurt your 
feelings say, " Be friends ; " but they should remember 
that broken crystals cannot be united even at the com- 
mand of Alexander the Great. 

An ill-temper is a great affliction to its possessor. A 
person allows little things at home to vex him. Dis- 
pleasure, small at the first, begins to ferment, then it 
spreads over a whole day and sours it. Or, if he leaves 
home in anger, he has disquietude for a travelling com- 
panion. However we look at it, temper is hurtful * to 
the owner ; it does twice as much harm to himself as to 
another, and indeed resembles a bad gun — more danger- 
ous to its possessor than to an enemy. 

Anger spoils many excellent things : it spoils one's 
peace, prayers, and business. A man who knows him- 
self will watch against its oncoming as the mariner 
watches against the storm, for it comes suddenly. In a 
moment of irritation you write a peevish letter. Ten 
years after, when you read it, you will blush with shame. 
A certain one, having expressed his feelings in an angry 
note, would rewrite it again and again, straining away the 
sediments of passion, till he had refined it into the wisdom 
of meekness. This method is politic as well, for an angry 
letter is often nothing but a wild scream of anguish r 
showing how thoroughly the lancet of reproof has pene- 
trated and punished. 

* 'OPYV X^P IV dov£, V Q ati Xvfiaiverai. 

CEd. CoL, 855. 



TEMPER. 245 

Temper is often allied to self-conceit, and disqualifies 
one for Christian blessings. A man walking on the stilts 
of pride and vainglory cannot enter the lowly door of 
Christ's school. He will not come down and he will not 
stoop ; so he is offended, and goes away in a rage. 

Temper detracts from strength. This was exemplified 
in the life of Lawrence Hyde, Earl of Rochester. He 
never learned the art of governing or of concealing his 
emotions. When prosperous, he was insolent and 
boastful ; when he sustained a check, his undisguised 
mortification doubled the triumph of his enemies. Very 
slight provocations sufficed to kindle his anger ; and 
when he was angry he said bitter things, which he forgot 
as soon as he was pacified, and which others remembered 
many years. Nothing was easier than to goad him into 
a passion ; and from the moment when he went into a 
passion, he was at the mercy of opponents far inferior to 
him in capacity.* 

Temper likewise detracts from dignity. When one 
has read of the achievements of some one distinguished 
in public life, we understand why he is styled Great; but 
when one reads of his impatience, of his complaints and 
murmurs in private, we feel inclined to regard him as 
small indeed. How undignified was the anger of Cyrus 
at the river Gyndes, when that stream had carried away 
one of the sacred white horses. He threatened to make 
the stream so weak, that henceforth women should easily 
cross it without wetting their knees; and he avenged 
himself on the river by distributing it into three hundred 

* Macaulay's "History," i. 264. 



246 DULCE DOMUM. 

and sixty channels.* How undignified was the ill- 
temper of Lord Chancellor Thurlow, when, being dis- 
pleased with the dessert, he threw it out of the window ! 

Elizabeth has generally been esteemed a great queen, 
yet in many things she was not great. She was very 
capricious, very passionate, and a great swearer. It was 
not unusual with her to beat her maids of honour. The 
blow she gave to a noble earl before the Privy Council has 
become historical. There remains in the Museum a 
letter of the Earl of Huntingdon's, in which he complains 
grievously of the queen's pinching his wife very sorely on 
account of some quarrel between them. 

The dignity of the judge suffered immensely in the 
person of the notorious Jeffreys. He might have dis- 
puted with Ajax the unenviable honour of being best at 
abuse. To enter his court was to enter the den of a 
wild beast, which none could tame, and which was as 
likely to be roused to rage by caresses as by attacks. He 
poured forth torrents of frantic abuse, intermixed with 
oaths and curses. Not the least odious of his many 
odious peculiarities was the pleasure which he took in 
publicly browbeating and mortifying those whom, in 
his fits of maudlin tenderness, he had encouraged to pre- 
sume on his favour.! 

Ill-temper, which is unbecoming in the sovereign and 
in the judge, is also specially unbecoming in the ministers 
of Christ. Jerome spent his last days contending with 
all who presumed to differ from him on any subject in 
which he took an interest. His choleric temper, which 

* Herod., i. 189. f Macaulay's " History," ii. 26. 



TEMPER. 247 

scorned all restraint, rendered him one of the most 
caustic and abusive controversial writers that ever pre- 
tended to be a Christian. Christianity had neither re- 
moved nor diluted the acid in his temper, and his mind 
was all corroded. Disputants of his type, if deficient in 
facts and logic, supplement the deficiency by abuse ; and 
they are encouraged in this adulteration when they per- 
ceive that a logical argument may pass unnoticed, while 
a scurrilous attack is applauded. The more earnest they 
are, the more bitter they are. Hence religious contro- 
versialists easily indulge in personalities ; but when two 
men are thus injuring one another, it is safe to conclude 
that one of them at least has not Christ ; for it is an 
eternal truth that, if two circles cut one another, they 
cannot have the same centre. 

One man is angry, and has done with it. Another is 
sullen, and cherishes a grudge. He, so to speak, re- 
absorbs his own bile, and suffers from a moral jaundice. 
When temper takes the unsocial phase of sulkiness, it 
interferes with usefulness. Achilles sitting at his swift 
ships, pining away in his heart, and refusing to frequent 
the assembly of noble heroes and the fight, is a type of 
many heroes, great and small. When men are kept in 
good -humour they co-operate; but, when they are 
slighted or offended, their suavity curdles into sullenness, 
and they refuse to work together. 

How it spoils society is manifest to all. You visit a 
man, who is hospitable, liberal, affable, but withal irrit- 
able; and this uncontrolled infirmity embitters your 
visit. It seems to have been partly, at least, owing to 
temper that Edmund Burke became at one time so en- 



248 DULCE DOMUM. 

tirely neglected. He quarrelled with Wilberforce, and 
he quarrelled with Fox. He was described by one of his 
contemporaries as " the inconsistent and incomprehen- 
sible Burke." 

It has been observed before that exhibitions of temper 
delight our enemies ; and as soon as they discover this, 
some of them delight to vex and irritate, in order to 
witness the exhibition afresh. Could it have been for 
this purpose that the Earl of Oxford took a secret 
pleasure in making people hang on and disappointing 
them ? * This knowledge ought to be a strong inducement 
to self-control, otherwise, in the end, we may see too late 
that we have been making ourselves a laughing-stock for 
others, and supplying a comedy for our enemies. 

Some have a good temper naturally, and irradiate all 
they say and do. This happy constitution of mind is 
rewarded for its iridescence by an inward consciousness 
and capacity for enjoyment. " There is nothing Lord 
Melbourne does not enjoy;" and the same may be said 
of every happy temper. 

It has been humorously observed that some endea- 
vour to raise their spirits up by pouring spirits down ; 
and no doubt, to a certain extent, wine gives a temporary 
and artificial vivacity. But then it is followed by reaction 
and depression. The same may be said of feasting, for 
it puts men in a good-humour at night, and in a bad 
humour in the morning. 



* Mahon's "Hist, of Eng.," i. 33, n. This rejoicing in evil 
(imxaioiKaKia) sometimes assumes the mask of benevolence, as 
when one censures under pretence of advising, or when one throws 
cold water on a person in spite under pretence of restoring him. 



TEMPER. 2tg 

Still the fault may lie in the excess, and there are, 
doubtless, methods by which natural temper may be 
improved and sweetened. The grace of God often works 
this change, and men who have been noted for a cross, 
litigious, and contradicting spirit, have, under this 
heavenly influence, become remarkable for gentleness, 
suavity, and agreeableness. Unhappily this is not always 
the case. One would have supposed that, when the 
early Christians passed through the intense fires of perse- 
cution, all the sulphureous passions of anger and revenge 
were dissipated from them j but they were not. Still, 
Christianity, by fostering a spirit of love and kindness, 
does much to help the conquest of temper. A Christian 
may say : — I could shoot out arrows, even bitter words; but 
I will not : I will rather burn them in the fires of charity. 

Philosophy comes as a useful handmaid to religion in 
refining temper, and her natural methods are not to be 
despised. For this treason one ought, every day at least, to 
hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, 
if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words* It 
might be added that if this were done in the morning, it 
would give a tone to the day. 

The good-tempered man takes obloquy as a compli- 
ment. When Bishop Hampden was wincing under harsh 
censure, an outspoken friend said to him, "Abuse you? 
Of course they will, if you are worth abusing ! " adding, 
with quiet humour, " I wish they would abuse me.' ? t 

There is great wisdom in not expecting too much 



* Wilhelm Meister, 2, 5. 

f " Bishop Hampden's Life," p. 59. 



250 DULCE DO MUM. 

meekness and suavity from others, especially when we 
are reproving them and putting them right. It is too 
much to expect patients to smile and thank while their 
bones are being set. 

In daily life good-temper will gain more victories than 
logic, just as one will catch more flies with honey than 
with vinegar. The good-tempered man is popular both 
with premiers and with children. It was Lord Melbourne 
who, perceiving how deeply Bishop Hampden's feelings 
had been wounded by persecution, laid a kindly hand on 
his arm and said, " Be easy : I like an easy man." 
St. Francis de Sales must have answered that description. 
His fair, mild countenance, with rather a childish expres- 
sion, pleased at first sight ; little children in their nurse's 
arms could not take their eyes off him. He was equally 
delighted with them, and would exclaim, as he fondly 
caressed them, " Here is my little family." The children 
ran after him, and the mothers followed them.* 

Good-temper has the same physical effect as hope : it 
makes life elastic and lengthens it. It saves from after- 
regrets and shame. It makes one beloved and acceptable : 
it increases one's influence immensely: it disarms our 
opponents and mollifies their hatred. 

In this way we can all do something to augment good 
feeling; and, if we cannot strew life's path with flowers 
we can at least strew it with smiles, f 

Good-temper can even utilize the insolence of a fool, 
for it fortifies the weakness which he has exposed ; receiv- 



* Michelet, "Priests, Women, and Families.' 
t Charles Dickens. 



TEMPER. 251 

ing with gratitude what another might receive with indig- 
nation. It is the perfection of temper to bear interrup- 
tions sweetly. Consider what a lesson God teaches in 
the sedge-bird : when it happens to be silent in the night, 
by throwing a stone into the bushes, where it sits, you 
immediately set it a-singing. 

There is true science in the ancient epithet, untamed 
anger ; * for the passion is wild and needs to be disci- 
plined and tamed. And unless it is tamed it will gain the 
mastery. \ 

There have been heroic instances of men struggling 
against temper, and prevailing. The Emperor Theodosius 
was hasty and choleric ; and in a station where none 
could resist, and few would dissuade, the fatal conse- 
quence of his resentment, the humane monarch was justly 
alarmed by the consciousness of his infirmity and of his 
power. It was the constant study of his life to suppress 
or regulate the intemperate sallies of passion ; and the 
success of his efforts enhanced the merit of his clemency. 
But the painful virtue which claims the merit of victory 
is exposed to the danger of defeat ; and the reign of a 
wise and merciful prince was polluted by an act of 
cruelty which would stain the annals of Nero or Domitian. 
Within the space of three years the inconsistent historian 
of Theodosius must relate the generous pardon of the 
citizens of Antioch, and the inhuman massacre of the 
people of Thessalonica. % 

Vigilance is a special requisite in contending against 



* Indomitas iras. — iEn., 2, 594. 
f Nisi paret, imperat. — Hor., i. 2, 62. 
% Gibbon's "History," iii. 250. 



252 DULCE DOMUM. 

temper. We need to make fast the bars of our gates 
against anger; for it uses no ceremony of entrance, gives 
no announcement, stays not for admission, but opens the 
door suddenly and rushes in. 

Even the meek man must beware of sudden surprises. 
It is an instructive analogy that the yielding air, when 
suddenly compressed, will give forth sparks of fire. 

Sometimes contempt is best. The wolf howls at the 
moon, but she goes on like a queen as though she heard 
not. Then time and absence abate feelings of hostility 
and facilitate forgiveness ; and it is seen that quietness is 
best. On the other hand it is dangerous to deal in 
defiance. The bird that utters notes of anger and com- 
plaint to drive the intruder from the nest only tempts 
him to search and plunder. 

The worst development of temper is revenge ; for this 
is the imitation and repetition and may become the per- 
petuation of a wrong. Among the Arabs and High- 
landers such is their patient inveteracy, that they expect 
whole months and years the opportunity of revenge. 

Most questionable is the anger which is gratified in 
the name of God. Such was that of Agbarus, who had 
formed the resolution to take forces, in order to destroy 
those Jews who had crucified the Lord Jesus.* It is 
especially the infirmity of narrow-minded men who use 
texts as daggers and stab under pretence of exhorting. 
All Laud's enemies were imagined by him to be the 
enemies of loyalty and piety. Every exercise of his 
anger by that means became in his eyes a merit and a 

* Eusebius, b. i., c. 13. 



TEMPER. 253 

virtue. This is what is called, not without a tincture of 
slang, " sanctified anger." 

He who is puzzled by the fact that God has per- 
mitted evil passions to exist, may be relieved by the 
consideration, that the Governor of the world can utilize 
them to great purposes and " make the wrath of man to 
i>raise HimT 



CHAPTER XVII. 



SELF-DENIAL. 



A man of self-denial has the true ring, which distinguishes 
the genuine from the counterfeit. Christianity requires 
this quality in all her followers : sometimes to a limited, 
sometimes to an unlimited extent. Sometimes it requires 
the sacrifice of an eye or a hand ; sometimes it requires 
the sacrifice of life itself. Sometimes it demands a part, 
sometimes it demands the whole. Now a preference, a 
taste, or a favourite opinion is a part of oneself, and may 
be symbolized by something very dear to us, such as the 
eye; but there are times when the preference must be 
foregone, and when the favourite opinion must be kept 
in abeyance. 

Self-will has a false notion of liberty, and thinks that 
one ought always to live as he likes ; * but people who 
act on this principle come into the most disgraceful 
bondage, being slaves to prejudice, passion, and appetite ; 
whereas he who denies himself, and subjects his lower to 
his higher nature, attains to true freedom. 

Those who have been accustomed to gratify themselves 

* Cic, De Off., i. 20 — " Viveie ut velis." 



SELF-DENIAL. 255 

in everything cannot understand disinterestedness in 
others. Self-indulgence has never studied the higher 
ethics, and cannot therefore appreciate self-denial. In 
some of the Continental wars, when England fought and 
won, it was wondered that not a single article for the 
benefit of our country was stipulated in the treaties. 
People could not understand that England fought not 
for herself only, but for the welfare of Europe. Still some 
acts have been so conspicuous that they have been read 
and known of all men ; and millions will yet read in 
history with a glow of admiration how England gave 
twenty millions sterling for the abolition of slavery. 

There is a pretentious disinterestedness, which some 
would have pass for self-denial, but which is only a coun- 
terfeit, and creates a prejudice against the real feeling. 
It is where a man sacrifices some position, or some 
emolument from spite or self-will, or because he cannot 
have his own way entirely. This, which is after all a 
vulgar indulgence of self, is proclaimed by him as an act 
of abnegation and lofty principle. Men easily see 
through this transparent misrepresentation, and it makes 
them suspicious of honest self-sacrifice. 

Self-denial is essential to domestic happiness ; and, as 
each member of the family yields to the other, and con- 
sults the other's comfort, it comes to pass that the freedom 
and comfort of all are secured. If, on the other hand, each 
member is selfish and self-willed, determined to have his 
own way and to gratify his own liking, there must be 
collisions and quarrels and unhappiness. Hence it appears 
that by mutual concession comfort and liberty are secured, 
while by unyielding obstinacy both are lost. 



256 DULCE DOMUM. 

The self-denying are amiable, and must be respected. 
The selfish are sure to be detected and despised. Often- 
times they are so conscious of their doom that they 
varnish their self-seeking with a plausible politeness, 
which postpones the date of their discovery. 

The intense eagerness of the selfish to accumulate to 
themselves a disproportionate share of the good things 
of life, shows how blind they are to the evident fact that 
others are as dear to God as they are,* and how unwilling 
they would be to be all treated as his children, receiving 
share and share alike. 

It is amazing what great interests men will sacrifice 
for their own ends. Two rival popes, one at Rome and 
the other at Avignon, sacrificed Christendom to esta- 
blish their individual pretensions to the tiara. When at 
length Benedict was deposed by a council, the impotent 
old man was left in a solitary castle to excommunicate 
twice each day the kingdoms which had deserted his 
cause. 

Emperors, kings, popes, warriors, are not great without 
self-denial; and well have some of these deserved the 
reproach of the poet : f — 

"An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild, 
But govern not thy pettiest passion." 

Some writers, and they great and eloquent, have gone 
astray in their speculations for want of historical know- 
ledge. Among this class are to be reckoned those who, 
in order to exalt the sacrifice of our Lord, have ex- 

* Combe, " Constitution of Man," c. ii. 
f Byron. 



SELF-DENIAL. 257 

pressed doubts whether any others have really and 
voluntarily died for their fellows. Herodotus, who is 
likely to be increasingly believed, records the fact that 
the Spartans had murdered the heralds of Darius. This 
nation, whether stimulated by conscience or superstition, 
could get no rest ; and at length made inquiry by public 
proclamation, whether any Lacedemonian was willing to 
die for Sparta. Sperthies and Bulis, both men of dis- 
tinguished birth and of great wealth, voluntarily offered 
themselves, and they were sent to the Medes for the pur- 
pose of being put to death. Happily, the great king 
was too magnanimous to kill them ; but they had proved 
their willingness to die. There was also the famous in- 
stance of the Decii, and the heroic hazard of Esther : — 
" If I perish, I perish." In the time of Charles I. the 
laws against priests were still severe. One Goodman, 
who was found in prison, was condemned to capital 
punishment. Charles, however, scrupled to sign the 
warrant for his execution ; and the Commons expressed 
great resentment on the occasion. There remains a 
singular petition of Goodman, begging to be hanged 
rather than prove a source of contention between the 
king and his people. This extraordinary act was soon 
after repeated. Strafford, in similar circumstances, wrote 
a letter, in which he entreated the king, for the sake of 
the public peace, to put an end to his unfortunate, how- 
ever innocent life, and satisfy the importunate clamours 
of the people. Still again, four of Charles's friends, 
persons of virtue and dignity, Richmond, Hertford, 
Southampton, and Lindesey, applied to the Commons. 
They represented that they were the king's counsellors, 

s 



258 DULCE DOMUM. 

and had concurred, by their advice, in all those measures 
which were now imputed as crimes to their royal master ; 
that therefore they were guilty and responsible ; and that 
they now presented themselves, in order to save by their 
own punishment the life of their sovereign. Happily, 
such cases of the highest self-denial — the sacrifice of life 
itself— have not been rare. So many have died for the 
truth that they have been justly described as the noble 
army of martyrs ; men of whom we cannot think without 
pity and admiration; who counted not their life dear, 
and who died for their master Christ. 

The beautiful story told of Sir Philip Sidney, how he 
resigned the bottle of water to a wounded soldier lying 
beside him, is a reproduction — it may not have been an 
imitation — of an incident in the life of Alexander the 
Great. Some Macedonians, seeing Alexander greatly 
distressed with thirst, filled a helmet with water out 
of their scanty supply, and presented it to him. He 
took the helmet in his hands, but, looking round, 
and seeing all the horsemen bending their heads, 
and fixing their eyes upon the water, he returned it 
without drinking. The cavalry, who were witnesses of 
this act of temperance and magnanimity, cried out, "Let 
us march ! We are neither weary nor thirsty."" There 
is another noble instance of his self-denial. The wife 
and daughters of Darius and many other Persian ladies 
were his captives, and they were beautiful women. He 
never approached them, but caused them to be sacredly 
respected and honoured. Similar high praise, under 
similar circumstances, is due to the warrior Belisarius. 
* Plut. in Alex. 



SELF-DENIAL. 259 

St. Paul is a striking instance of self-denial for the 
good of others. When dealing with the question of 
meats offered to idols, he went so far in his consideration 
for the feelings of his brethren, as to vow, " If meat 
make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the 
world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." * 

There is fair scope for self-denial, when one finds some 
favourite taste, however innocent, drawing one away 
from the main business of life. + It may be chess, or 
amusement, or society. In the case of Archbishop 
Usher it was poetry. He found it was interfering with 
his studies, and he accordingly gave it up, and denied 
his taste. 

It requires a considerable amount of self-denial to 
make an apology, for it is very humbling to pride and 
vanity to acknowledge that we have been in the wrong. 
The Czar Alexander had said to Prince Volkonsky, 
"You always see the enemy double." Afterwards, in 
presence of the King of Prussia and a numerous suite, 
he said, " I did you wrong yesterday, and I publicly ask 
your pardon." One of the noblest apologies was made 
by Mr. Gladstone to the late Bishop Hampden. The 
distinguished statesman had, as a young man, voted 
at Oxford against the theologian, but without sufficient 
information to justify an adverse vote. Years afterwards, 
feeling the injustice he had done, he wrote to the bishop, 
expressing his " cordial regret." 

An apology is a species of self-punishment, and there 
are few who have the courage and the constancy to 

* I Cor. viii. 13. f Perimus licitis. 



260 DULCE DO MUM. 

punish themselves. Charles XII. made a resolution to 
abstain from wine all the rest of his life. It was generally- 
supposed that he wished in this way to punish himself 
for an excess which he had committed, and for an affront 
which he had done to a lady, in the presence of the 
queen, his mother.* 

There are many destructives of self-denial, among 
which a love of ease, indolence and pleasure, may be 
counted the chief. Moreover, a want of faith in our 
future destiny converts multitudes into epicureans, who 
reckon every pleasure gain, and every denial loss. There 
is also a danger lest having resolved on abstinence from 
some gratification, we feel the privation irksome and 
glide into the indulgences which we had previously pro- 
scribed. This is the natural tendency to relapse, and 
here Christian and civilised men do figuratively what the 
half-converted idolator does literally. As some one has 
said, he despised and threw down yesterday's idol, and 
to-day gathers up the broken fragments, regilds the statue, 
and sets it up on a new pedestal. 

Many devout persons, being without the gift of 
moderation, have passed into the excess. Fasting, for 
instance, must have been intended to make us more 
efficient ; but excessive fasting weakens the body, 
depresses the energy, irritates the temper, and renders us 
less efficient.t God's will is the standard measure of self- 
denial : " Not as I will, but as thou wilt" God gives the 
rosy hue of health, the ascetic changes, it into parchment 

* " Histoire de Charles XII.," p. 54. 
t ixtfXvrjtxOaL itooioq icai IdrjTvog, otyp' in fxaXXov 
Hax<*>pt9a 1 wXt^Q aiti. — Iliad, 19, 231. 



SELF-DENIAL. 261 

colour. God gives the rounded form, the ascetic changes 
it into a skeleton. God gives generous enjoyments, the 
ascetic denounces them as deadly poisons. He does not 
seek to know what are God's intentions as revealed in 
nature and in Scripture. He sets up an unnatural 
standard of his own, and glories in extravagances, the 
more they depart from the normal law. Such was the 
theory of Tertullian, such was the practice of Simeon 
Stylites \ and these may be taken as fair samples of 
numberless followers. The Christian was instructed not 
only to resist the allurements of the taste or smell; 
but even to shut his ears against the harmony of 
sounds, and to view with indifference the most finished 
productions of art. Gay apparel, magnificent houses and 
elegant furniture, were supposed to unite the double 
guilt of pride and of sensuality. Anathemas were pro- 
nounced against false hair, garments of any colour except 
white, instruments of music, vases of gold or silver, downy 
pillows (as Jacob reposed his head on a stone), white 
bread, foreign wines, public salutations, the use of warm 
baths, and the practice of shaving the beard, which, 
according to the expression of Tertullian, is a lie against 
our own faces, and an impious attempt to improve the 
works of the Creator.* Extreme as were these theories 
there were found many who surpassed them in practice : 
Simeon Stylites most notably so. He lived in a little cell 
near Antioch, and on one occasion he caused his den to 
be stopped up with earth, and remained forty days 
without eating or drinking ; so that when disinterred, he 

* Gibbon's "Hist.," c. xv. 



262 DULCE DO MUM. 

was nearly dead. Afterwards he kept such a fast, annu- 
ally, as long as he lived. Crowds of admiring visitors of 
all ranks thronged around him. Incommoded by the 
pressure of the crowd, he erected a pillar on which he 
might stand. The top of it was three feet in diameter 
and surrounded with a balustrade. Here he stood day 
and night in all weathers. Through the night and till 
9 a.m. he was constantly in prayer, often spreading forth 
his hands and bowing so low that his forehead touched 
his toes. A bystander counted 1,244 prostrations. He 
generally ate but once a week, never slept, wore a long 
sheepskin robe and a cap of the same. His beard was 
very long, and his frame extremely emaciated. After 
making allowance for the undoubted exaggeration of 
Romanist historians, there is still enough left to typify 
the class, — 

"Who think to merit heaven 
By making earth a hell." 

St. Dunstan framed a cell for himself so small, that he 
could neither stand erect in it, nor stretch out his limbs 
during his repose. That cell was suggestive ; it not only 
cramped the body, but it cramped the mind. The whole 
system tended to dwarf humanity, and to exclude all that 
was amiable, manly and magnanimous. The nuns of 
St. Francis were not allowed a bed, and were obliged to 
sleep on a few planks raised about a foot from the 
ground.* Such expressions as my book, my cloak, my 
shoes, were punished with six lashes. That pseudo- 

* " Life of Blanco White," i. 122. 






SELF-DENIAL. 263 

Christianity acted as a bleaching liquor on the character, 
and deprived it of all colour. 

God has given to man a noble body, and it should be 
reverenced as his handiwork, and nourished so as to affect 
the mind healthily; for it is the instrument of the mind. 
A sense of property should be encouraged because it in- 
tensifies one's interest in the duties of life ; and the per- 
sonality of character should be cultivated, because it 
coincides with God's purpose of variety. Those who 
have a tendency to asceticism should give greater pro- 
portion in their life to the pleasures of piety and intellect, 
and to innocent bodily tastes and amusements. 

Monachism caricatured self-denial, and prejudiced the 
common sense of mankind against it. Nevertheless, as 
oftentimes the only means of saving life is amputation, so 
by strictest analogy the only way of preserving spiritual 
life is self-denial. If a man can lop off an evil habit he 
is saved; if he lets it grow it spreads over his whole 
character and ruins him. 

How is it to be cultivated, and when ? At an early age 
children may be taught to forego little things, especially 
for the sake of others ; for that shows a purpose. After- 
wards they may be taught to bear disappointments and 
crosses as benefiting their own character, and preparing 
them for the heavier trials and sacrifices of mature age. 
It will help to self-conquest, if one distinct act of self- 
denial is practised every day ; and then it should be en- 
tirely voluntary and cheerful, for thus it is like fruit with 
the bloom on it ; but when self-denial is grudging and 
complaining, it is indeed sour and acrid fruit. Thus 
practising daily we shall turn every unpleasant duty 



264 DULCE DOMUM. 

into an altar, on which to sacrifice our own predilec- 
tions. 

Doubtless, this which is generally regarded as an indi- 
vidual duty, will yet be regarded as a civic and inter- 
national obligation. The self-denying ordinance was a 
grand idea, however it was sullied by envy and self-seek- 
ing. Great political parties have not seldom foregone 
their own advantage in national crises, and there 
seems to be a growing spirit among the nations not to 
intermeddle, not to take advantage of each other's em- 
barrassment, but to encourage a free trade and a free inter- 
course with all mankind ; and to make concessions for 
the sake of peace and amity, which is nothing else but 
national self-denial. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

COURTESY. 

Courtesy is kindness denying itself and studying to 
oblige others. Warm courtesy delights, while cold 
politeness hurts. This kindly feeling disposes us rather 
to see beauties than to detect faults ; and makes us eager 
to bestow favours, and careful to avoid offences. 

Some may fancy that they have never been taught 
manners, because they have never been taught system- 
atically; but every fault pointed out, every direction 
how to act, every hint of etiquette is a practical, though 
it may be an informal, teaching of manners. A great 
deal also is learned unconsciously by association with 
well-bred people, and as they congregate in towns there 
is a certain demeanour, and accent, and look * acquired 
there, which cannot be acquired in sparsely populated 
country parts. Still, the man who lives in a rural district 
is not necessarily a rustic ; he may be a man of genuine 
though unpolished courtesy; while the town-bred man, 
varnished merely on the outside, may be a rustic at heart 
and not always able to hide his real vulgarity. Julius 

* " Frontis ad urbanae descendi praemia." — Hor. Ep., i. 9, 11. 



266 DULCE DOMUM. 

Caesar made a fine distinction on this point. Happening* 
to sup with a friend at Milan, sweet ointment was poured 
on the asparagus instead of oil. Caesar ate of it freely, 
notwithstanding, and afterwards rebuked his friends for 
expressing their dislike. " It was enough," he said, " to 
forbear eating, if it was disagreeable. He who finds 
fault with any rusticity is himself a rustic." * 

Courtesy is akin to modesty, that lowly temper which 
makes little of itself and makes much of others. This is 
the essence of true politeness, and gains admiration and 
love. On the contrary, pretentiousness destroys courtesy, 
and is neither admired nor loved. Even the black-bird 
would be prized much more if it did not sing so loud. 

Courtesy is seen in little things. How much character 
there is in a knock at the door ; in the gait ;f in the tone 
of voice. A little mind assuming a high tone reminds 
one of the fact that the pitch of a bell is higher the 
smaller it is. People who give themselves airs are essen- 
tially wanting in courtesy; they seldom speak to give 
pleasure, and are either unconsciously or purposely dis- 
agreeable. 

The medium must be kept between stiffness and free 
and easy unceremoniousness. People who are pompous, 
haughty, and unbending, ought to remember that we 
need joint-oil for the mind as well' as for the body; and 
those who are so imprudent as to dispense with all 
ceremony will be sure to give offence and to lower them- 
selves. An explanation of the Duke of Wellington's is 



* Plut. in Julius Csesar. 

f "Et vera incessu patuit dea." — J£n., i. 405. 






COURTESY. 2b: 

very forcible : " The reason why I have a right never to 
have a liberty taken with me, is because I never take a 
liberty with any man." 

As we may be easy without being free, so we may be 
firm without being stiff. There is a time and place for 
everything. Some one said of Lord Thurlow that he was 
a sturdy oak at Westminster and a willow at St. James's. 
And although a sarcasm may lurk under the epigram, yet 
the metaphor is wonderfully true ; for where justice and 
principle are concerned one should be firm and un- 
yielding, yet in society one should be as pliant and 
agreeable as possible. 

A Christian above all men ought to take a beautiful 
polish, and yet he is often a very rough diamond. It may 
be that the absorbing interest in the realities of eternity 
makes him overlook the little courtesies of life. The 
Reformers and their opponents were especially dis- 
courteous to each other, whether it arose from intense 
earnestness for the truth, or from the rude temper of the 
age. Luther published a letter addressed " To the he- 
goat Emser." The answer to this was inscribed, " To 
the bull of Wittenberg." They seem to have been pur- 
posely offensive : "I will rouse," says Luther, " the 
choler of that Italian beast." A doctor of Constance 
had the portrait of Erasmus hung up in his study, that 
he might spit in his face as often as he pleased. On one 
occasion a Dominican was hovering about the door of 
the apartment where Luther was supping, that he might 
get an opportunity to enter and spit in his face. 

It is owing to personal bitterness of this kind that men 
of the world are often said to be more kindly and more 



268 DULCE DOMUM. 

courteous, more tolerant, and more forbearing than reli- 
gious men. How much more wise and politic this 
demeanour is would be evident on reflection; and yet 
this superiority is constantly overlooked. It was not 
only generous to an enemy, but a master-stroke of policy 
on the part of Julius Caesar, when he found the statues 
of Pompey thrown down, to erect them again. It gave 
occasion to Cicero to say, " That Caesar by rearing 
Pornpey's statues had established his own." It may 
palliate the coarseness of religious controversialists in 
some degree to consider that God occasionally needs 
rough men, men that do not mind making an enemy now 
and then in a good cause, men that with stentorian 
energy, can awaken a slumbering world out of the pro- 
found lethargy into which it occasionally sinks. 

Certainly it requires the heavenly powers to produce 
the minor morals, of which courtesy is one. The great 
is often used to produce the small, just as they employ 
steam-machinery to make sweetmeats. And the courtesy 
which is the product of Divine grace is far more genuine 
than the courtesy which springs from policy, from self- 
interest, or from association. 

One of the wondrous ways in which God generates 
courtesy is by leading us to recognise our own unworthi- 
ness and to think more highly of others. A sense of our 
own infirmities makes us forbearing and kind, and 
charitable to all men. The highest amiability may thus 
be owing to a consciousness of internal defect ; and this 
is not without a parallel in nature, for the noble opal 
owes its beautiful play of colours to a multiplicity of 
otherwise imperceptible fissures in its interior. 



COURTESY. 269 

That use of imagination whereby we put ourselves in 
the place of others, has often been effectual in arousing 
compassion and charity ; it may also be effectual in pro- 
moting courtesy. If a man reflects with himself how 
coldness chills him, how disrespect frets him, how a 
flippant criticism wounds him, how sarcastic words rankle 
in his memory, these painful experiences will, if he is 
right-minded, prevent him from causing the like to 
others.* 

Courtesy does not go unrewarded. It helps a man 
greatly in his profession or business. A Quaker is 
reported to have said that he made his fortune by 
civility. When such a saying is reduced to its net value, 
there still remains a large amount of truth. 

Courtesy is a chief ingredient in persuasion — a gift 
which avails immensely in every variety of human life. 
The complaint of Hecuba might be still taken up in our 
days, and we might ask, " Why do we toil after all other 
sciences, as a matter of duty, but least of all strive to 
learn thoroughly Persuasion, the sole mistress over the 
minds of men ? " \ The way in which we put an 
idea, and the words in which we express it, avail 
far more than men commonly suppose. In very 
many cases, upon this method depends success or 
failure. 

Besides the choice of words and their arrangement, 

* d)Q TOIQ \6yOLQ 

evsoriv a\L§oiv icepSog, ki av fxhv fiaQoig 
roi<; rrjaSe xp>)(T0at, rolg di aolg avrrj irdXtv. 

Soph. Electra, 369. 

f Eurip. Hec, v. 814, 



2;o DULCE DOMUM. 

there is also a fascination in manners. All hearts were 
touched and charmed by the politeness of Alcibiades. 
Even those who feared and envied him were disarmed of 
their resentment in his company. The Earl of Sunder- 
land, Secretary of State under Charles II., had the same 
charm. It was difficult even for shrewd and experienced 
men, who had been amply forewarned of his perfidy, to 
withstand his gracious arts and blandishments. The Earl 
of Shrewsbury, in the succeeding reign, was another of the 
same type. Though unsteady, yet so generous, bland, 
and easy, that it was impossible not to love him. He 
was early called the King of Hearts, and never, through 
a long, eventful, and chequered life, lost his right to that 
name. 

It is a fine trait that Sir Walter Scott puts into the 
portrait of David, King of Scotland — that this monarch 
would leave his hunting, or any engagement, in order to 
listen to a complaint from the meanest of his subjects.* 
Well does this accessible king contrast with Archbishop 
Sancroft, who, by his office and profession, was bound to 
remember the apostle's precept, " Be courteous." When 
he was deposed, Tillotson was appointed to succeed 
him. Tillotson immediately went to Lambeth in the 
hope that he might be able, by courtesy and kindness, to 
soothe the irritation of which he was the innocent cause. 
He stayed long in the ante-chamber, and sent in his 
name by several servants, but Sancroft would not even 
return an answer. 

Courtesy will often disguise a want of principle. A 

* " Tales of a Grandfather," i. 24. 



COURTESY. 271 

man will stoop to any meanness, when he has a cartila- 
ginous backbone ; and his degradation is disguised by 
the loathsome polish of insincerity. He is indeed a 
spurious character — popular, it may be, but not respected 
— having the qualities which the vulgar admire, but 
lacking the virtues which the wise demand. This is the 
case especially when courtesy springs from policy, when 
it is employed for selfish ends, and has no really generous 
regard for others. There may be great callousness in- 
side, while there is a varnish of suavity outside : — 

" One may smile, and smile, and be a villain." * 

When one's heart is full of the love of God and man, 
then there emanates the desire in all things to please all. 
With this disposition and aim the man meets every one. 
It imparts frankness to his manner, and kindliness to his 
countenance ; and, if it is tempered with good sense 
and delicacy, it has the essential ingredients of courtesy. 

Some have an affectation of roughness, who are yet 
really kind, and delight afterwards to reveal themselves 
in pleasing disappointments. But they should not wear 
their temper, any more than their coat, the wrong side 
out. For they are apt to give offence, and that is written 
on the memory with indelible ink. The cicatrix of vac- 
cination and offence, received in childhood, are visible on 
the old man. 

A prudent man will take pains to avoid giving offence ; 
for experience soon teaches him that innocence in this 
respect is far better than eloquent apologies afterwards. 

* ''Hamlet," i. 5. 



272 DULCE DOMUM. 

And therefore such an one will copy and recopy a letter 
ten times over rather than cause umbrage. 

Courtesy is a near relation of humility, and comes in 
for many advantages on that account. The courteous 
man will listen to a hint from a servant, or a workman, 
or a child. How many lessons in arches and domes, 
stairs and colonnades, cells and tunnels, the architect 
might have learned from insects. " Scorn not the least : 
Behold, God is ??iighty, and despiseth not any." 

What shall be said of those who give offence purposely ? 
That they are as unwise as they are unchristian. Cer- 
tainly they will be disliked, they will make enemies, and 
perhaps even avengers for themselves. He who is pru- 
dent will never give to his fellow-man a wound to heal at 
home.* 

Some of a warm temperament are violent without 
meaning it. They take a hatchet to destroy a spider's 
web. Such persons should reflect whether gentleness 
would not accomplish their end equally well, if not better. 
No doubt they often feel that it would do so, and this 
accounts for their transitions from harshness to lenity. 
Goethe says of Herder, — " One could not go to him without 
rejoicing in his mildness ; one could not quit him without 
having been hurt by his bitterness? \ 

The calm observer will make allowance for physical 
causes, and will no more consider transient vehemence as 
malice than he would mistake red paint for blood. Still 
the offender should never forget that violence always 
damages and sometimes destroys influence. When such 

* Iliad, viii. 513. f Life, by Lewes, ii. 271. 



COURTESY. 273 

a man's opinion is quoted in company it is received by 
the polite with silence, by the frank with murmurs — in 
both cases with distrust. 

Some Christian men,* too sagacious for violence, have 
yet too much acid in their Christianity. They have 
acquired the unenviable habit of saying harsh things with 
great self-possession and gentleness of tone. And cer- 
tainly this refined bitterness resembles meekness, but 
it is only a resemblance. 

Of course one has many opposite influences bearing 
upon him, and it is difficult always to be polite and 
gentle and self-restrained, but it is worth striving after ; so 
that, on the one hand, manhood is not " melted into 
courtesies," and, on the other hand, suavity does not 
.curdle into sullenness. 

In dealing with the irascible, the crotchety, and the 
impracticable, remember that even wasps are taken with 
a little sweetness. In dealing with the erring, the unfor- 
tunate, and the fallen, learn a lesson of the elephant, for 
that noble animal never treads upon the wounded in the 
battle-field. 

Courtesy is something very different from etiquette; 
and a poor peasant may be really more courteous than 
royalty. It was Queen Elizabeth who, when she re- 
fused a request of the Earl of Essex, added, in a con- 
temptuous style, that an ungovernable beast must be 
stinted in his provender. It was William of Orange 
who, when the Princess Anne dined with him, and when 



* There are unpleasant traditions of this sort about Thomas 
Scott, Romaine, Robert Hall, &c. 



274 DULCE DO MUM. 

the first green peas of the year were put on the table, 
devoured the whole dish without offering a spoonful to 
her Royal Highness. It was George II. who, when he 
was conferring the garter upon Lord Temple, threw the 
ribbon across him, and turned his back at the same in- 
stant in the rudest manner. 

One must pay social taxes, and it is wiser to pay them 
graciously and pleasantly. For instance, what a false 
economy it is, by cutting off an interview abruptly, to 
gain an hour and lose a friend ! One great cause of dis- 
appointment is this, that friends meet and expect to be 
pleased, instead of going into society with a determina- 
tion to please ; in which case, doubtless, both would 
come away gratified. This subject is closely related to 
popularity — a charm by no means to be despised, for it- 
has a powerful influence ; only every one ought to bear 
in mind the weighty distinction of Lord Mansfield be- 
tween the popularity which follows, and the popularity 
which is followed after.* 



* Cf. Sallust, Catil. c. 54, of Cato : — " Esse quam videri bonus 
malebat : ita quo minus petebat gloriam, eo magis ilium sequebatur." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

CONVERSATION. 

God's design in the gift of speech is not far to seek. It 
is the great means of social intercourse. When well 
used, it tends to information, to enjoyment, and edifica- 
tion ; when abused it is an instrument of deceit, of de- 
moralisation, and misery. 

Oftentimes its results are negative ; and what Arch- 
bishop Leighton deplored of pastoral visits, that they 
were either a blank or a blot, is far more applicable to 
general society. 

One of the great purposes of speech is edification; 
and that is indeed a large word, for it embraces in its 
ample meaning information and encouragement, pleas- 
antry and counsel ; and, when conversation has abun- 
dance of these healthful elements, it is a well of life. 

Table-talk may be made most edifying. When the 
head of the family is a good and well-informed man, it is 
very pleasant to hear his reminiscences and listen to his 
anecdotes. It is instructive to hear him explain diffi- 
culties, and it is interesting to hear him repeat happy 
sayings and striking quotations. No visitor would pro- 
bably leave such a man without being either wiser or 



276 DULCE DO MUM. 

better; aut doctior aut melior ; and he would probably 
adopt the exclamation of the Queen of Sheba : — "Happy 
are these thy servants, that continually stand about thee 
and hear thy wisdom." 

People do not realise as they ought to do, how honour 
and shame is in talk ; * and how a talkative man is the 
publisher of his own shame. Even when he proclaims 
his virtues, he is not popular ; and as long as modesty is 
held in esteem, the egotist will never be a favourite in 
society. If he is as true in history as Cassandra was in 
prophecy, he will have the misfortune, like her, not to be 
believed. 

The reason why much conversation about oneself is 
offensive, is because what belongs to us is more interest- 
ing to ourselves than it is to others. We make a great 
mistake when we fancy that a recital of our past dangers 
and triumphs will be as pleasant to the audience as it is 
to the narrator. t It might be so in the case of a Living- 
stone ; but there must be great vanity and mental exag- 
geration, where a man retails the events of an ordinary 
life with complacent confidence. Even when egotism is 
interesting, it is too delicate to be much used ; and is 
not unlike those glass bells, which give a fine sound, but 
soon break under the continued use of the clapper. 

All boasting is in its essence unwise. The braggart is 
a poor rhetorician ; for, having come to us to excite 
admiration, he goes away leaving pity or disgust. He 
sends before him the herald Expectation, but Disappoint- 
ment follows behind, flouting him. 

* Ecclus. v. 13. f Epict. Manuale, xxxiii. 14. 



CON VERSA TION. 2 7 7 

Exaggeration is very much akin to boasting, and it is 
wonderful how much this custom is interwoven with our 
phraseology and habits. We talk of waves mountains 
high, whereas it is probable that in no case do the very 
loftiest rise more than ten feet above the general level.* 
Again, the dragon, which has been magnified into a 
large, fierce, and winged animal, is in reality a small, in- 
nocent creature. 

" The tongue of the just is as choice silver," says the 
proverb, and this may have suggested to some writer the 
idea that discreet conversation consists in choosing among 
our thoughts, and giving utterance only to the best. This 
process may be hostile to fluency, but it is most true that 
discretion of speech is more than eloquence. \ 

No doubt it is the difficulty and danger of conversation 
that has put such a premium on silence, and yet silence 
is not always golden. On the contrary, it has two mean- 
ings and two values. One man holds his tongue because 
he has nothing to say, and another keeps silence, biding 
his time. I 

The light heart utters its idle words, never thinking of 
waste and responsibility; whereas precious time and 
talent are wasted, when conversation becomes frivolous 
and degraded. Besides, it is, what might never be sus- 
pected, personally injurious to oneself; for vain conver- 
sation is an exhausting syringe, which leaves the soul a 
vacuum. 

Voltaire gives an account of an interview between 



* "The Ocean," by Gosse, p. 21, n. 
f Lord Bacon's Essays. I Ecclus. xx. 6. 



2;8 DULCE DOMUM. 

Charles XII. and King Augustus II., where the conver- 
sation turned only on boots. Charles said that he had 
not left his off for six years, except at bedtime. These 
trifles were the sole topic between two kings, the one of 
whom had taken a crown from the other.* The cele- 
brated statesman, Mr. Fox, and Lord Carlisle, travelled 
from Paris to Lyons for the purpose of buying waistcoats, 
and during the whole journey they talked about nothing 
else.f 

The wise conversation of Alexander the Great, while 
still a lad, stands in striking contrast to these frivolities. 
Ambassadors from Persia having arrived in the absence 
of his father, he asked them no childish or trifling ques- 
tion, but inquired the length of the roads and the route 
into Asia. He desired to know about their king, in what 
manner he behaved to his enemies, and what was the 
strength and power of Persia. % 

The assertor is one who often says undoubtedly when 
there is great doubt, § and he does damage to himself as 
well as to the company. A facile assent to statements 
made in conversation leads to self-deceit; for while a 
prompt acquiescence covers ignorance, it also saves the 
necessity of extensive reading, which an exposure might 
have brought about ; and so from making others think 
that you know what you do not, you have come to think 
so too. 



* "Histoire de Charles XII.," p. 134. 

f Timbs's " Century of Anecdote," i. 179. 

t Plut. Alex., v. 

§ Leaving out the cautious word, arbitror. Cic. Font. 



CONVERSA TION. 2 7 9 

Loquacity * is destructive of real conversation, for it 
tends to turn dialogue into monologue. Who has not 
suffered from tedious speakers spinning their subject to 
filaments? It is annoying to hear a shallow man, still 
more painful if he is a stentor, monopolise the conversa- 
tion and pain the ears of silent wisdom by his undigested 
crudities. There is need of exquisite tact, however, to 
abate the nuisance of the loquacious. The talkative, 
like other machines, does not know when to stop, for it 
requires a sensitive observation to know, especially in 
polite society, when our conversation is ceasing to 
interest! None of the audience likes to give a hint. 
Ungracious is the office of timekeeper in any assembly. 

When the heart is warm and the tongue eloquent, one 
is apt to let go arrows against charity. It is pleasant to 
speak and have others listen and applaud, but the pro- 
verb is still verified, " In the multitude of words there 
wanteth not sin." 

Some, from a dread of being deemed unsociable, and 
from a strong desire of pleasing, strive in company to be 
talkative and witty, and run into an excess of effort. 
They are also apt to pass into an excess of artless frank- 
ness, not knowing, that however good a man is, he should 
not be too open. The eye would lose half its beauty, 
if it were not partially covered by the lid. 

For successful conversation, no requisites are more 
necessary than respect and good-will. Any signs of con- 

* A good prescription for any scholar who is talkative would be 
the little chapter in Theophrastus, rrepi ddoXeax'iag. 

t Cicero's rule is good : " Quatenus sermo delectationem habeat." 
— Cic, De Off., i. 37. 



280 DULCE DO MUM. 

tempt or ill-will towards the listener are sure to be 
resented, and thus the better ends of conversation are 
entirely frustrated. 

Some are forward in conversation, and take delight in 
sneering, contradicting, objecting, excepting, and spoil- 
ing the pleasures of speech. Almost as disagreeable as 
the boaster is the debater. He has a fondness for grind- 
ing his adversary's arguments in the mill of criticism, and 
performs this operation with the more zest, provided 
there are spectators and auditors. 

Abstruse discussions are also out of place on this 
account — people go into society to relieve the mind after 
the brain has been taxed in study and business. To 
introduce such questions as free-will, fate, and the origin 
of evil, is therefore a solecism against society. Wilber- 
force * gratefully acknowledges a good hint which he 
received from John Newton, to the effect that he never 
found it answer to dispute. Thousands could verify this 
experience, and add that they have found controversy to 
be a wind ruffling social life, stirring the mud of evil pas- 
sions, and raising a commotion in the most tranquil com- 
pany. Often too it comes in gusts, suddenly and fitfully. 
Witness the dispute between Queen Elizabeth and the 
Earl of Essex. He turns his back on the queen, she 
boxes his ears, he clasps his hand to his sword — a tornado 
in a moment. 

Even if boisterous contention does not breed actual 
enmity, yet it takes away the genial charm of life. What 
a significant little fact that there is no dew after a windy 

* Life, i. 97. 



CON VERSA TION. 28 1 

night ! Does not that describe the state of feeling in the 
morning succeeding a vehement discussion with a friend ? 

Eck and Luther disputed warmly before a splendid 
assembly in the castle of Pleissenburg ; but all that the 
Romanist controversialist seems to have carried away 
was a hostile and deadly feeling towards the Reformer. 
And it was not to be wondered at, even if they had been 
cool opponents, which they were not. Any one who has 
belonged to a debating society knows how soon modera- 
tion and calmness pass into fervency. Water is cold and 
sulphuric acid is cold, but when these two cold liquids 
are mixed together, they produce great heat. The result 
of the chemical experiment is only a little more certain 
than that of the argumentative. 

The disputant takes up a position, and partly from 
pride and partly from consistency he maintains that posi- 
tion. He can therefore look only from one point of view • 
whereas a man who has not committed himself can move 
round all the positions, and then he finds that a question 
has not only two but many sides ; that it is indeed a 
polygon. The larger his range is therefore the wider his 
view, and the broader his intellect the less will he be 
inclined to argue from a single standpoint. So it comes 
to pass that half-educated* people are most fond of 
debate. This fondness has in some cases seized on 
royal personages. King James I., from his great desire 
to promote controversial divinity, erected a college at 



* In the great French Revolution the soldiers, tailors, hair- 
dressers, and valets had their debating societies. — Alison's 
" Europe," i. 248. The Dutch had done the same before them. 



282 DULCE DOMUM. 

Chelsea for the entertainment of twenty persons who 
should be entirely employed in refuting the Puritans and 
Roman Catholics. 

The Emperor Alexius Comnenus being a man of learn- 
ing, and perceiving that the Manichaeans could not easily 
be subdued by force, determined to try the effect of dis- 
cussion and reasoning, and therefore spent whole days in 
disputing with them. Not a few gave up to this august 
disputant ; but he supplemented his discussions with 
physical arguments. Those who yielded were rewarded 
with rich presents, honours, privileges, lands, and houses ; 
those who resisted were condemned to perpetual im- 
prisonment.* 

The repugnance of the educated to controversy may 
be summed up in the words of Goethe : " If Raphael 
were to paint it, and Shakespeare dramatise it, I could 
scarcely find any pleasure in it." 

The opposite fault to incautious disputation is the 
subtle art of private and confidential insinuation. This 
is more dangerous than public accusation, on the same 
principle that the Indian's arrow often does more execu- 
tion than the European's gun because it makes no 
noise. Lord Macaulay says that the Earl of Sunderland 
surpassed ail men in the art of whispering. It would 
have been well for that nobleman if he had been trained 
in a Spartan school ; for there, as the scholars entered, an 
old man pointed out the doors to each one and said : 
" Through these no word goes outside." \ This practical 



* " Triumphati, non victi." — Tacit. Germ. 37. 
f Plut. Lycurgus, xii. 



CON VERS A TION. 283 

lesson must have tended to check tale-bearers, and the 
insinuation and misrepresentation which tale-bearing 
engenders. After all the whisperer is of a vulgar type ; * 
he belongs to the order of the Rodentia, which do not 
cut, but gnaw. 

The person of others is a dangerous topic. The Earl 
of Essex showed much imprudence in this respect, for 
he was heard to say of Elizabeth his queen and friend, 
that she was now grown an old woman, and was become 
as crooked in her mind as in her body : a saying which 
was, of course, repeated, and doubtless mainly contributed 
to his disgrace. What different pictures of one's ac- 
quaintance are painted in the studio and in the parlour ! 
There we find the?n much handsomer than they are and 
like: here much uglier and like.\ Any blemish or 
excrescence will be set forth prominently by the conver- 
sational painter under the pretext of being true to nature. 
In one of Wordsworth's sonnets is the striking expression 
" malignant truth or lie ; " a pointed epithet which must 
have reached many a conscience that justified itself for 
speaking evil on the ground that it was true. Even a 
half-truth is found very effective by the social archer, for 
he finds that a little feather of truth put on the arrow of 
falsehood makes it fly all the better. May it not be partly 
on this account that the reputation of some religious news- 
papers is so strange and ambiguous, as being at once the 
most scrupulous and the most unscrupulous ; thoroughly 
canine, both cynical and dogmatical? Certainly the secular 

* Aristotle notes of the magnanimous man, that he is not fond 
of talking of people. — " Ethics," iv. 3, 31. 
f Wycherley's " Plain-dealer. 1 ' 



284 DULCE DO MUM. 

press is often more Christian than the religious. Christi- 
anity may have done much for the religious editor, but it 
has not in all cases extracted his poison-fangs. It may be 
laid down as a general rule that never is the sin of evil- 
speaking so subtle and dangerous, never is it so detest- 
able, as when the slanderer is ingenious in assigning 
good motives and objects for his detraction. We need 
to cultivate habits of repression. Oh that we had within 
the kingdom of our hearts a Bastile where we could im- 
prison with strong bolts of resolution all words of malice, 
envy, and despite, which might offend a brother's ear. 
Calumny is a reptile, and more than that, it is a reptile 
that can fly ; that is a pterodactyle, which has never been 
extinct. Never extinct and never rare, for slander, vulgar 
or refined, is almost universal. If every one were required 
annually to deliver a slanderer's tongue, fears might be 
entertained that mankind would all be dumb. People 
are often so persistent in spreading reports that although 
a calumny explodes and bursts, they will recast it and 
use it again, unless indeed the victim's general life has 
been so exemplary that he is able to live it down ; for in 
such a case the renewal is vain and absurd. Who dares 
now revive the charge of murder against the saintly 
Richard Baxter ? * 

When a great historic name has been smeared with 
calumny, all honour be to the man who burnishes it up 
again. In daily life characters of less note in the world, 
but of equal value to the owners, are constantly daubed 
by the foul hand of envy. To restore and polish them 

* " Life and Times of Richard Baxter," i. 68. 



CON VERSA TION. 285 

again is a task which God leaves to the volunteers of 
Christian justice. 

How many assume offices without appointment — 
patrons, physicians, preachers, surveyors, critics, judges ! 
How often are judicial functions performed in conversation ! 
Men who cannot measure a field or a spire will yet presume 
to take the dimensions of public men ; and yet no men- 
suration is so faulty as that of character. The gene- 
rality merely take the superficial and linear dimensions, 
but do not calculate the square measure. Not merely in 
regard to trade, but in dealing with the character of 
others, " A false balance is abomination to the Lord, 
but a just weight is his delight." Conscience is a variable 
standard, sectarianism is a scanty measure, fashion and 
popular opinion are oscillating scales, but when true 
religion has reformed the world, there will be but one 
moral weight and measure for all mankind. 

A man's discretion, nay, his character, is often tested 
by the topics he brings forward. Of course some, 
through mere helplessness, stumble on anything ; but a 
man with self-possession cannot introduce plays, races, 
fashions, wines, books, sermons, habitually, without 
exhibiting an ethical index. The ability to start the 
discourse, and to turn the discourse, is not without re- 
sponsibility. 

Conversation shows the heart even when invested with 
a pericardium of duplicity. Cromwell, with all his self- 
control and profound dissimulation, could not so carefully 
guard his expressions, but that sometimes his republican 
ideas would escape the door of his lips. How much more 
does an ordinary man betray himself, for when he speaks 



286 DULCE DO MUM. 

uncharitably and censoriously of others, like a sick 
patient, he presents his foul tongue to the observer, who 
notes it as a symptom of the disordered functions of the 
speaker." 

A man may do great hurt to himself, and great damage 
to others, by indiscreet speech. Lord Bacon gives 
instances of great men, who undid themselves by clever 
sayings, but he omitted a very striking example. Philip I. 
of France indulged in a sarcasm on the corpulency of his 
brother of England, William the Conqueror, who was 
then confined to his bed by illness at Rouen ("lying in," 
as Philip phrased it). This infuriated the proud Norman, 
who swore that at his churching he would set all France 
in a blaze. The conflagration of Mante, in which many 
of the inhabitants perished, was the result of this witti- 
cism. As Electra says, " Many a trifling word, believe me, 
hath ere now both overthrown and established mortals." + 

There is a guilty listening as well as a guilty speaking. 
A man may not join in censorious conversation — he may 
be too timid or cunning ; but he may feel a secret plea- 
sure in hearing. Now it is his duty at least to put on the 
drag of charity. 

A house of gossip is a dissecting room, and every wise 
man will escape from its effluvia. One can scarcely help 
rejoicing in the retribution which occasionally overtakes 
the slanderer, for not seldom one dissecting the dead has 
inflicted a fatal puncture on himself. 

There is no more powerful element in conversation 

* "In primisque provideat, ne sermo vitium aliquod indicet 
inesse in moribus."— Cic, De Off., i. 37. 
f Soph. Electra, v. 415. 



CONVERSATION. 287 

than kindness. It makes the speaker loved, and the 
hearer glad. It enhances gifts" and it multiplies friends ; 
bu-t it is not without temptation to weak characters to 
praise all, and speak well of all. Many, however, 
have an objection to be smeared even with honey dew,f 
and speaking well of all men is an injustice, for it awards 
praise indiscriminately and unfairly, making all alike. 

A casual conversation may be the turning point in the 
hearer's life. Demosthenes heard his tutors agreeing 
among themselves to go and hear the orator Callistratus, 
and he obtained permission also to go and hear him. 
He was struck with the power of his commanding 
eloquence, and fired with emulation. From that time he 
gave up boyish pursuits, and applied himself to declama- 
tion, in the hope that he would one day become an 
orator. All the world knows the result. 

Here the masters had been overheard, and to some 
purpose ; but no man can, at all times, be overheard 
safely. A generous instance of this indiscretion occurs 
in the life of the French King Louis XI. He could not 
forbear one day, in the joy of his heart, throwing out some 
raillery on the simplicity of Edward IV. ;• when he per- 
ceived that he was overheard by a Gascon settled in 
England. He was immediately sensible of his indiscretion, 
sent a message to the gentleman, and offered him such 



* It was said of the Emperor Michael Palasologus, that his gifts 
were doubled by the graces of his conversation and manners, 
f Praise was at all times really painful to Keble. — Life, p. 158. 

Travcrofiai o - ' alvStv, kirti 
fiapot; rt kclv rqJd' kariv, aivtlaOai Xiav. 

Eurip. Orest., 1161. 



288 DULCE DO MUM 

advantages in his own country as engaged him to remain 
in France. " It is but just," said he, " that I pay the 
penalty of my own talkativeness." 

It is only a very narrow-minded person that would 
exclude wit and humour and repartee from society. Con- 
versation is insipid when there are no saline ingredients ; 
but religion ought to be privileged from jest. The 
abuses, however, and the buffooneries of religion being so 
irrational, may fairly and effectually be attacked by ridi- 
cule. Wit, when it is kind and wise, drives away care 
from the mind, and wrinkles from the brow.* Not so 
when people mistake ill-nature for wit, for then their con- 
versation is seasoned, not with salt, but with brine. Nor, 
when people mistake folly for humour, as when James I. 
applied the epithets Baby Charles and Stenny to the 
prince, his son, and the Duke of Buckingham — names 
which appear ridiculous, and not humorous. 

Some denounce other men at a great rate, but yet 
with a sort of good-nature and truth ; it is more in play 
than malice, but how many animals are killed in sport ! 
The jester is apt to be intemperate, and not even friends 
are safe from the discharge of his swivel-tongue, for it 
fires in all directions.! Cicero was excellent at hitting 
off a jest or repartee, but he did it too freely and indis- 
criminately ; often merely to raise a laugh, and this made 
him very obnoxious. % Many are proud of blistering 
power, and yet they are surpassed in that faculty by the 

* " Ergo non satis est risu diducere rictum 

Auditoiis ; et est quedam tamen hie quoque virtus." 

Hor. Sat., i. io, 7. 

f Hor. Sat., ii. 1, 23. % Plut. in Cic., v. xxvii. 



CONVERSATION. 289 

beetle cantharis ; but it should be known that blisters 
leave unpleasant sores festering in the memory of an 
antagonist. 

An ever-present argument for caution and kindliness 
in our conversation is the consideration that it may be 
our last word. Some have expired in the utterance of a 
boast or a lie ; it may be also in the utterance of a sneer, 
or a cutting jest. For this reason, as well as for others, 
raillery should never be personally offensive. Nor should 
it be thrown out at random and without aim or object, 
for then it has the appearance of wantonness. Even the 
pleasantries of a good man proceed from principle, as if 
he imitated those flowers floating on the surface of the 
Rhine whilst their roots are fixed in the bottom of the 
river. 

An innuendo is galling, not only on account of the 
thing itself, but on account of the manner of doing it, 
because there is a want of straightforwardness, and be- 
cause, after the manner of a boomerang, it is often 
ostensibly directed from the person at whom in reality it 
is aimed. 

Shakespeare * makes Queen Katharine say to Wolsey — 

" your words, 
Domestics to you, serve your will ; " 

but words are as often our masters as our servants. Who 
knows not what it is to be enslaved by a word ? Who- 
ever enters into conversation without realising its gravity 
will not escape with impunity : " Thou art snared with 

* " King Henry VIII.," ii. 4. 
U 



290 dulce do mum. 

the words of thy mouth, thou art taken with the words of 
thy mouth." * 

He who starts the topics does, in a manner, lead the 
conversation ; and it must be borne in mind that some- 
thing more is requisite for this than good intention. 
Forethought and considerateness are needed ; for with 
the best motives we are apt to say the right word at the 
wrong time. How unskilful for instance are ordinary 
comforters ! How they violate the first canon of con- 
solation ; we increase griej by mentioning it. \ 

Religion is a topic that needs to be introduced and 
handled delicately. It must not be dragged in by the 
hair of the head. How naturally it comes when it comes 
feelingly ! "My heart boils up with pleasant words" says 
the psalmist. % Good and sweet, and holy, and devout 
are the words which come from a heart boiling with zeal 
and love to God. Very different is the tepid conversa- 
tion of nominal Christians. We strive that our conversa- 
tion may be guarded and correct, but it ought to be 
more than that ; it ought to have a savour of spirituality. 
The converse of many ordinary Christians is frivolous, 
insipid, and without salt ; and if an anxious inquirer sits 
at their hearth it is death to his piety. So the sea- 
anemone perishes when it gets into fresh water. The 
conversation need not all be religious, but the main ten- 
dency should always be good, as Lord Morpeth said : 
" Emulate the flame which, while it enlivens all around, 
points to heaven." Over and above a good tendency, 

* Prov. vi. 2. 

f " Augemus dolorem commemorando." — Cic. 

% Psalm xlv. I, literally. 



CON VERSA TION. 291 

the conversation may sometimes be made directly religious 
by a felicitous turn. Thus Archbishop Usher, after dis- 
cussing any nice question with his friends, used to say, 
" Come, let us now talk a little of Jesus Christ." A man 
of tact will be on the outlook for such opportunities ; 
and in that watchful state of mind natural objects, and 
situations, and times will suggest a word in season. 
Thus an English clergyman, parting with a French 
traveller on Mount St. Bernard, said happily, " I hope, 
sir, that we shall meet in a place still higher than this." 
" I hope so myself, sir, with all my heart," was the 
reply. » 

A Christian ought not to disguise from himself that 
there is always a danger for the religious man of lowering 
the tone of conversation. This tendency is invariable 
as the natural law, by which all warm objects cool down 
to the surrounding temperature. Indeed some are so 
reticent on this subject that they seem as if they acted 
in accordance with the order once made by the Jesuits 
at Nola, " that no man should speak of God at all."* The 
worldly man cannot bear the tone of conversation to be 
pitched high ; he tries to lower it to his own pitch. On 
the subject of religion he is like a piano with a mute 
note. 

Even the devout Christian often is in default here, 
and shows that nothing is so inconsistent as man. He 
will upon his knees in the morning pray, " Thy kingdom 
come," and during the day by his rashness, petulance, 
loquacity, and uncharitableness put ever so many spokes 

* " Life of Eliot," p. 11. 



292 DULCE DOMUM. 

in the wheels of that chariot which is bringing the future 
King. 

In the fourth century Constantinople was the 
principal seat of Arianism. The loquacious zeal of the 
people is described with pleasantry and exaggeration by 
an intelligent observer. " This city is full of mechanics 
and slaves, who are all of them profound theologians, 
and preach in the shops, and in the streets. If you 
desire a man to change a piece of silver, he informs you 
wherein the Son differs from the Father; if you ask the 
price of a loaf you are told, by way of reply, that the Son 
is inferior to the Father ; and, if you inquire whether the 
bath is ready the answer is, that the Son was made out 
of nothing." * 

The habit of using Scriptural phraseology in our 
country, as the Puritans and their imitators have done, is 
not to be condemned as insincere and hypocritical. No 
doubt it arose from a want of intelligent perception that 
the Hebrew idiom was as unnatural to an English voice 
as the Hebrew costume would have been to an English 
person. It arose from an earnest desire to imitate to the 
very letter the examples of God's people. For a different 
reason the hypocrite assumes the sacred phraseology. 

It is well to know your company, otherwise you will 
speak mal d propos. Richard Cromwell, son of the Pro- 
tector, travelled abroad under a borrowed name, and so 
was introduced to the Prince of Conti. That prince, 
talking of English affairs, broke out into admiration of 
Cromwell's courage and capacity : " But as for that 

* Gibbon's " History," iii. 222. 



CONVERSATION. 293 

poor pitiful fellow Richard," said he, " what has become 
of him? How could he be such a blockhead as to 
reap no greater benefit from all his father's crimes and 
successes ? " 

There is danger in talking with those whom you do not 
know ; there is danger in talking with those whom you 
know intimately. You trust, you are off your guard, you 
betray yourself, till you come to feel that in conversing 
you have more need to beware of a friend than an 
enemy. 

It is a portable rule for all times and for all companies ; 
speak kindly and speak sincerely, and you will succeed 
in conversation. Do not traffic merely with smiles and 
honeyed words. These come from art as well as love, but 
when they come from art men scorn their heartlessness. 
Have thou thy heart brimful of love to God and men, 
then shall thy cheeks have smiles more natural than the 
finished courtier's, and kind and loving words come trip- 
ping on thy tongue. 



CHAPTER XX. 

BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 

Whether a man calls his business a trade or a profes- 
sion, it is essentially his work ; and one ought to choose 
that work for which he has most taste and most natural 
aptitude. To constrain children into employments, for 
which they have no inclination, or even an aversion, 
is as unwise as the custom of those barbarians, who 
make trades hereditary, and compel the son to follow the 
same occupation as the father. If ever human beings 
could be bred as horses, then men could propagate here- 
ditary tastes, but not till then. 

It is of importance to impress the young mind with the 
truth that no honest trade is dishonourable in itself; but 
that a tradesman may, and often does, surpass a pro- 
fessional man by his diligence, his conscientiousness and 
his courtesy. 

God gives one of his best blessings to men when 
he gives them a love of their calling. Then they go 
to work regularly and punctually, then they engage 
in it pleasantly, and come home with the agreeable 
sense of duty done. Without this love of our work, 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 295 

duty is a drudgery, work is a weight, and business is a 
burden. 

Thorough integrity should be the groundwork of every 
business or profession. This secures confidence, and 
confidence secures success. Many a man fancies that 
religious feelings would unfit him for his trade; and 
so they would, if his trade is foul and criminal. Then 
he puts off faith, truth and conscience, as inconvenient 
and cumbersome. So, too, the vulture's head and neck 
are destitute of covering, that he may revel amid de- 
composing carrion without the incumbrance of soiled 
and matted feathers. No honest-hearted man, how- 
ever, will find conscience an incumbrance, but, on the 
contrary, an exceeding great ally. 

No doubt a mean sphere is discouraging, yet it is 
not without its advantages. There is so much victorious 
feeling in rising above it, and in demonstrating that it 
is not so much the office that adorns the man as the 
man that adorns the office. If one earnestly strives 
to utilise and adorn a sphere, however mean, he will 
certainly diminish its meanness, and invest it with 
respectability and usefulness. A proud man need not 
despise, and a humble man should not forget the fact 
that the bee sometimes converts an empty snail-shell 
into a hive for honey. 

Business is often blamed, when the man himself 
should be blamed. A man cannot expect to succeed, if 
'he is taking his pleasure when he ought to be keeping 
his books ; if he is on the race-stand when he ought to 
be in his counting-house ; if he is at a shooting-match 
when he ought to be behind his counter ; if he is living 



2 96 DULCE DO MUM. 

extravagantly when he ought to be living economically. 
Such a man injures himself and injures his business, and 
contributes to his own ruin.* 

Business or profession is a large subject, it demands 
many qualities, and is full of variety. Yet in all kinds 
the principles are the same : all from the highest to 
the lowest require deliberation, industry, and perseverance; 
all are subject to competition; and all which are conducted 
prudently, politely, and energetically, do, as a general 
rule, issue res. prosperity. 

Now, taking these in order : — 

I. — Deliberation. 

Foresight was given to man, as tentacula to fishes, by 
which they might feel their way in that which is before 
and beyond them. 

Some have this foresight naturally, just as some have 
excellent eyesight. Themistocles was one of these ; for 
by his own talent and without learning anything towards 
it before, or in addition to it, he was both the best judge 
of things present with the least deliberation, and the best 
conjecturer of the future, to the most remote point of 
what was likely to happen. He had too the greatest 
foresight of what was the better course or the worse in 
what was as yet unseen. In a word, by strength of 
natural talent, and shortness of study, he was the best of 
all men to do off-hand what was necessary.t 

* ttqoq tov rvpavva (7/c^7rrpa <jv\ji$r]<j6Tai; 
avrbg Trput; aurov Ktvocppovwv fiovXtvfxanjjv. 

Prom. Vinct. 762. 
f Thucyd., i. 138. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 297 

It would be dangerous for any one to suppose that 
this was merely happy conjecture, and could be easily 
imitated. For in one man there may be great know- 
ledge, great experience,* and rapid combination, and 
accurate inference, and in another almost none of these 
things, so that the conjecture of the one would be a 
rapid logical process, and that of the other a random 
guess. 

Now whether a man has natural foresight in a high or 
low degree, he will be benefited by deliberation, by ear- 
nestly thinking out the subject, anticipating events, and 
providing for even opposite occurrences.' This is very 
different from merely brooding over a subject. In re very 
the ship is becalmed, and both sails and helm are 
useless. In deliberation there is both progress and 
steerage. 

The image of a ship is a very suggestive one on this 
subject, for winds, tides, and currents are apt to throw 
her out of her reckoning. It is the same in deliberation. 
Passions, impulses, and illusions vitiate our calculation ; 
and yet there is as much need for correctness in delibera- 
tion as there is in navigation. If, therefore, your in- 
tellectual vision be apt to magnify or to lessen, to 
exaggerate or to depreciate, make allowance in your 
calculations for that tendency. 

Some act without any deliberation : they are sure to 
be checkmated. Some act not without deliberation, but 
without sufficient deliberation : the same fate, though de- 

* log rolcriv e/jnreipoMTt Kai tclq Zv/jupopntg 
^uxjag opw jxaXiara nov fiovXevfidr ojv. 

GEd. Tyr., 44. 



298 DULCE DOMLM. 

ferred, is in store for them. It is more a disgrace than 
an apology to say, " / had not thought P * Scipio 
Africanus used to say that this phrase was the certain 
mark of mental imbecility. Sometimes those who will 
not take pains to deliberate, cast all their care upon 
chance, and hope for good luck. It is true that fortune 
[felicitas) was anciently reckoned one of the attributes of 
a successful general ; but if that quality were analysed, it 
would be found probably to be nothing else but a bless- 
ing on a zealous use of means. The more wise a man 
is, and the more experienced, the less will he trust to 
fortune. 

Deliberation may with great advantage be made a 
daily habit. On rising one might give the first half-hour 
to self-examination, and planning how to spend the day. 
Many acts of self-denial, benevolence, and friendship 
will flow from this fountain of meditation. It is of great 
consequence how we spend the first part of our day. The 
morning is the father of the day. 

A man may deliberate and plan his future to great ad- 
vantage, provided he does not become a slave to his pro- 
gramme and fancy he cannot accomplish anything unless 
he adheres rigidly to what he previously laid down. The 
plan must have a certain elasticity to allow of being 
stretched or relaxed, according as unforeseen circum- 
stances may require. This shows that it is well to delay 
a final determination as long as possible before the 
moment of action, because new circumstances arise, and 
time alters the positions and relations of things. To 

* " Non putaram ."—Cic. De Off., i. 23. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 299 

adhere to one's original purpose, then, despite of changes, 
is not consistency, but obstinacy. Plutarch tells us that 
Julius Caesar, when about to cross the Rubicon, stood in 
silence revolving the arguments on both sides, and many 
times changed his opinion. When the mind is in such 
suspense, a very slight influence often decides.* It may 
be the season or the weather ; and that is so immediately 
from God, as to show how He is overruling all by his 
sovereign power. 

Some people deliberate to-day on what they should 
have done yesterday, which is most foolish, unless they 
wish to discover their faults, and to avoid a repetition of 
them in future, like a chess-player playing over his 
yesterday's game in order to see his false moves. But to 
embark on board a vessel, and when she is out at sea to 
inquire whither she is bound, is downright puerility, and 
yet many so embark indeed, not in ships, but in agita- 
tions, leagues, joint-stock societies, and other specula- 
tions. 

Inventors and discoverers must have deliberated much. 
To the uninitiated reader the occasion of the discovery 
seems very simple, and he thinks he could have found it 
out as well; but these inventors had their minds full of 
the subject, and w T hen they were full of meditation the 
occurrence arose and was instantly interpreted. A certain 
physician delighted to be in the dark, and accordingly he 
caused caves to be made in the earth, f in which, in sum- 

* " Dum in dubio est animus, 

Paulo momento hue illuc impellitur." 

Terent. Andria, i. 5, $5. 

f Some think that there "was a god of Counsel among the 



300 DULCE DO MUM. 

mer-time, he was pleased to meditate, ]and think, and 
brood over an idea with uninterrupted intensity. Who 
was he ? It was Harvey, who discovered the circulation 
of the blood. 

Deliberation, although precious, is by no means uni- 
versally appreciated. It is handed down to us by 
tradition that the celebrated physician Sydenham, at the 
commencement of his professional life, used, when con- 
sulted by patients for the first time, to hear attentively 
the story of their complaints, and then say : " Well, I will 
consider of your case, and in a few days will order some- 
thing for you." But he soon discovered that this 
deliberate method of proceeding was not satisfactory, and 
that many of the persons so received forgot to come 
again.* He was consequently obliged to prescribe off- 
hand, and we may suppose his patients were then entirely 
pleased. Indolent people do not like the trouble of 
deliberating themselves. Uneducated people cannot 
appreciate doubt, hesitation, suspense, and balancing 
of opinion in others. All these things are unpopular; 
but the multitude is captivated with unqualified con- 
fidence and boldness. Many therefore of different senti- 
ments and from different motives may combine to say 
with Electra : " Nothing is more detestable than base 
deliberation." f 

Rightly regarded, however, deliberation is heroic and 
almost divine, for it is the present controlling the future. 

Romans, called Consus ; and that his altar was underground, 
because counsel should be as private and secret as possible. — 
Plut. in Rom. 

* "Lives of Brit. Phys.," p. 91. f Soph. Electra, 1047. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 301 

To justify this high encomium the control must be on 
the side of goodness ; for we have also a power to 
influence and arrange our future for evil, as we know by 
ordinary experience. For instance, one must not make 
rash engagements, otherwise he will often have to blame 
his yesterday for pawning his to-day. He must take 
especial care that his present may not spoil his future. 

Deliberation is one of those qualities which approach 
very near to the divine attributes ; and, it would seem as 
if to check presumption, excessive prudence is apt to 
pass into the ludicrous. Who would not smile at the 
King of Spain providing the Armada, causing a scheme 
to be drawn up for the invasion of England, and for -its 
government afterwards ? * The whole history of that 
scheming valetudinarian, devoting all his life and wealth 
to the deliberate purpose of crushing civil and religious 
liberty, and yet, being in the hands of a higher Power, 
the occasion of its development and establishment — 
should teach us — 

" There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
Rough-hew them how we will," f 

and it should teach the men who deliberate and plan, 
not to be presumptuous, but to make all their arrange- 
ments dependent on a higher Power. There is a half- 
anecdote often quoted (and a half-anecdote is as mis- 
leading as a half-truth) how Caesar encouraged the pilot 
in a storm by saying, " Fear nothing : thou earnest Caesar 

* Such, a programme justifies the satiric combination of Burns : — 

" The best-laid schemes of mice and men." 
f " Hamlet," v. 2. 



302 DULCE DO MUM. 

and his fortune." The sequel of the story is less grandiose. 
The pilot and the mariners exerted themselves to the 
utmost, but they were obliged to turn back in spite of 
their imperial cargo. It is indeed a humiliating fact that 
events often turn out quite contrary to our expectations, 
that the remedies we provide have often quite a contrary 
effect to what we intended, and that our most energetic 
efforts are often thwarted by some very inconsiderable 
circumstance. From this we should learn to combine 
humility and modesty with prudence ; but still we should 
not lose faith in the word, " Ponder the path of thy feet, 
and let all thy ways be established." * 

Deliberation will be of little avail, unless it is followed 
by decision. A man halting between two opinions is 
like a feather tossed by gusts of wind, now on this side, 
now on that, sometimes in the road, sometimes in the 
kennel ; at one time in the air, at another time in the 
mud, — the sport of the eddying winds. Our duty is to 
consider well, and then, without too much or too little 
confidence, to decide. It ought to be a grand argument 
for prudence that our decision is final, and that, in most 
cases, it is vain to ask back a move in the great game of 
life. 

II. — Industry. 

Deliberation considers what is to be done and how to 
do it. Then a man has a definite purpose in view, and 

* Prov. iv. 26. The Roman polytheist held the same truth, but 
expressed it in his own way : — "No divinity is absent, if foresight 
is present : " — 

" Nullum numen abest, si sit Prudentia." 

Juv. Sat., x. 365. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 303 

can make all his energies converge towards its accom- 
plishment.* This prudent preparation is the secret of 
rapid and prosperous industry, whether in work or in 
war.f Preparation is the real beginning, of which it 
may be said, Begun is half done. 

A thorough worker, whoever he may be, excites or 
extorts our respect ; but as for the indolent dependent, 
it is just that his bread should be smeared with reproach, 
as, indeed, it often is. Does any one wish to know 
what is the difference between the worker and the idle 
man ? Send both adrift and you will see. 

Christ has dignified labour by that saying : " My 
Father worketh hitherto and I work ; " and St. Paul 
exalts human labourers by describing them as workers 
together with God. All our roads, bridges, railways, are 
owing to the hard work of the poor ; and in this point of 
view the poor are probably of more essential use than 
the rich ; just as iron is of infinitely greater value than 
gold. 

Workers, of course, are not confined to any one class. 
There have been many aristocratic and many royal 
workers. What made King Alfred great ? His work as 
much as anything. Julius Caesar was not only the first 
general and statesman of his age, but was a great orator, 
historian, mathematician, philologist, jurist, and archi- 
tect; and therefore he must have. been a great and versa- 
tile worker. 

In all professions and businesses there are those who 

* Wavra 6pi£«rou t<£ ts\u. — Aristotle. 

+ "2,-KtvliovTiQ Tt yap axoKairfQOV av TravoaiaQe. Sid to 
cnrapaoictvoi kyx^iptlv. — Thucyd., i. 84. 



304 DULCE DO MUM. 

will do no more than is stipulated, and there are others 
who will work overtime to accomplish their task success- 
fully and thoroughly. It is superfluous to observe which 
of these classes will be most liked, and appreciated, and 
promoted. Unto them that work shall more be given. 
The dew falls more copiously on cultivated soils than on 
barren lands. 

Certainly a Christian ought to do his work better for 
his Christian principle, since it supplies him with such a 
high sense of duty, and so many superior and sublime 
motives. The way in which he discharges his duty indi- 
cates the state of his heart. The connection between 
the barometer and the weather is not more close and 
accurate. We cannot all expect a conspicuous station, 
nor agreeable work ; but a good man is as willing to be 
a useful lamp as a brilliant meteor ; and, as for our work, 
we may make a disagreeable task pleasant by the manner 
of doing it ; by doing it gently, contentedly, cheerfully, 
and as an exercise of patient self-denial. 

Acts have flavour as well as fruits. To work earnestly, 
to suffer cheerfully, to help readily, gives a flavour to the 
work, to the suffering, and to the help. In Japan, one 
of the most beautiful and fertile countries in the 
whole world, the flowers have no scent, the fruit has no 
flavour, and the birds have no song.* That is an 
allegory as well as a fact, and typifies the acts and 
speeches of the perfunctory man. 

It was a fine saying of Charles II. regarding Sidney 
Godolphin : — " He is never in the way, and never out of 

* Sir Rutherford Alcock's " Tycoon,'' i. 70. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 305 

the way." This pointed remark, adds Macaulay, goes 
far to explain Godolphin's extraordinary success in life. 

It is one great fault of endowed and other secure 
appointments, that a man is tempted to play at work ; 
and this may happen in the most exalted stations in 
Church and State. Charles II. went to Council as he 
went to the play, solely to be amused. Again and 
again, clergymen, military men, government officials, and 
other pensionaries, lapse into a perfunctory discharge of 
duty, nor do they take much pains to disguise this 
delinquency. 

On the other hand, some work in excess ; some from 
choice, some from necessity. Terrible must have been 
the exhaustion in some of our naval battles. Numbers 
of the English sailors fell asleep beside their guns, when 
a momentary cessation of loading took place. M. Thiers 
is reported to have given an account of himself, showing 
how grievously at one time he was overtaxed : — " At 
night my servants undressed me, took me by the feet 
and shoulders, and placed me in bed, where I lay like a 
corpse till the morning. Even my dreams, when I 
dreamt, were administrative." Excessive work and 
fatigue may be endured for a time by strong men with 
impunity ; but in general it is false economy, as may 
appear from this consideration. We have a certain 
amount of energy, just as we have of money or time : 
and by excessive expenditure we may become bankrupt 
in health as well as in gold. It was therefore a saying 
full of wisdom, addressed by a bishop to an over-anxious 
deacon : — " Do less that you may do more." The way 
to do much, and yet to do it with economy, is to work 

x 



306 DULCE DO MUM. 

with skill and deliberation. In the method of arranging 
and combining our forces will be found the art of multi- 
plying them. How suggestive to a practical mind is the 
fact that, with five flags of different colours, three hun- 
dred and twenty-five signals can be made by permutation 
and combination. 

It is a salutary idea, which represents life as a loan to 
be returned with interest ; for this cannot be done with- 
out industry. God has lent us life, talents, faculties, on 
these terms ; but a shrewd scoffer might say that these 
loans had been made on insufficient security — so few 
there are who live under the influence of this idea, and 
who work diligently in order to make a handsome return 
to the Creator. 

Often it has been debated whether genius or diligence 
availed the most ; but no better verdict will ever be 
given than that of Horace :— " I do not see what dili- 
gence can do without a rich vein of natural ability, nor 
what genius can effect without application. The one re- 
quires the help of the other, and they co-operate to- 
gether in a friendly spirit." * 

There is such a thing as useless, perverse, and even 
pernicious diligence. An enlightened Christian will not 
hesitate to endorse with a certain modification the 
criticism of Gibbon, that the merits and miracles of a 
whole calendar of superstitious saints are of less account 
in the eyes of a sage than the toil of a single husband- 
man, who multiplies the gifts of the Creator, and sup- 
plies the food of his brethren. 

* Ars Poetica, v. 408. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 307 

The motto Day by day is invaluable if it be not mis- 
interpreted to mean from hand to mouth. No day can 
be isolated from its yesterday and to-morrow ; and our 
future in a great degree depends upon our present. God 
sets before us the ant providing her meat in the summer 
and gathering her food in the harvest.* St. James t cites 
the example of the husbandman waiting for the precious 
fruit of the earth with a long patience. 

But while we are to work with reference to the future, 
and not to confine our labours to the limits of the day, 
we must not deceive ourselves, and fancy that we have 
plenty of time, and that there is no urgency, and that we 
may depute corrections, and verifications, and revisions 
to the future,^ and so be careless in the present. 

It is difficult to fix the exact boundary between dili- 
gence and neglect. Thus a carpenter may do his work 
slightly, and therefore insecurely; a scholar may read 
and take his authorities at second-hand ; § a tutor may 
entertain his pupils and yet not instruct them ; a surgeon 
may examine a patient fussily and yet not thoroughly ; a 
barrister may study his brief and yet neglect to search for 
precedents. Generally speaking, however, neglect in 
business soon makes itself felt, both as regards the man 
himself and those with whom he has to do ; but, as 
Demosthenes justly observes, habitual sloth and negli- 

* Prov. vi. 8. f v. 7. 

X to fxsXXov <T 'iaov airpaZiq, Xeyw. 

Eurip. Orest., 426. 

§ A good archbishop, who would trust none but his own eyes, 
read through the whole of the Fathers for himself, though it occu- 
pied him eighteen years. 



308 DULCE DO MUM. 

gence, the same in public matters as in private life, is not 
immediately felt on every occasion of neglect, but shows 
itself in the general result.* 

The ancients seem to have dealt with idleness far more 
severely than we do. Every Egyptian was bound an- 
nually to declare to the governor of his district by what 
means he maintained himself, and if he failed to do this, 
or did not show that he lived by honest means, he was 
to be punished with death. Solon brought this law from 
Egypt and established it at Athens, where it was regarded 
as an unobjectionable regulation.! 

A similar custom prevailed among the people of 
Otaheite.J A choice was generally made either of 
capital criminals for the human sacrifices, or of vagrants 
who strolled about from place to place without any 
visible method of obtaining an honest subsistence. The 
victim was fallen upon suddenly and clubbed without 
warning. 

If work was originally a curse, God has transmuted it 
into a blessing. Idleness is an intolerable misery to the 
intelligent and earnest man; work is his exercise and 
delight. Therefore it is that many work who have no 
need, unless the compulsion of their higher nature. For 
there is a difference between the necessity of the free- 
man and of the slave. To a free-man shame is the 
strongest necessity ; to a slave, stripes and bodily chas- 
tisement^ Translated into the phraseology of modern 
thought the sentiment amounts to this, that he who has 



* Philippic iv. t Herod, ii. 177. 

+ Cook's "Voyages," p. 286. \ Demosth., Philip, iv. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 309 

a high sense of duty would certainly feel ashamed to eat 
the bread of idleness. 

It is said that the young man of the period is not fond 
of work ; that he prefers to be free and easy, and to 
spend his evenings in hotels, music-halls, and casinos 
rather than in reading and self-improvement. The excite- 
ment of his evening's pleasure subtracts greatly from the 
vigour and industry of the succeeding day. 

The Emperor Carinus was so indolent that he could not 
bear the trouble of signing his name. A confidential 
secretary, who had acquired great dexterity in the art of 
forgery, relieved him from the irksome duty. The Emperor 
Vitellius likewise was so indolent that Tacitus compared 
him to a hog, without, however, using the offensive 
epithet : " Secluded in the shades of his gardens, as the 
lazy animals, to whom if you throw food, lie still and are 
torpid, he had dismissed with equal oblivion the past, 
the present, and the future." * Idleness is not merely a 
negative quality, but it leads to licentiousness and all 
kinds of mischief. Why did ^Egisthus fall into impurity? 
The reaso?i is evident: he was slothful. ,t It was a dis- 
criminating observation of Tacitus respecting the ancient 
Germans, that they loved indolence, and yet hated quiet. \ 
Even the idle must have variety, and, though they shrink 
from any systematic effort, they are liable to spasmodic 
bursts of quarrelsome mischief. Indolence is also a 
great waster. As soon as the fruit is ripe the Makalolo 
cut down the tree rather than be at the trouble of 



* Tacit. Hist., iii. 36. f Ovid, Rem. Am., 162. 

I Tacit. Germ. 15. 



310 DULCE DOMUM. 

climbing it* Contrast with these lazy barbarians the 
diligence of tiny birds. Sometimes their nest is so 
plentifully lined with feathers, that, upon being counted, 
they proved to be about two hundred in number. Such 
a contrast might tempt one for a moment to question the 
maxim, " Ye are of more value than many sparrows." 

In ordinary cases idleness is the precursor of ruin ; it can 
overturn even a royal throne. It is told of Louis Seize, 
when the concealed recesses of the Tuileries gave up his 
private journal to the irreverent hands of the mob, that 
one entry was found often repeated during the most 
critical period immediately preceding the Revolution : 
"Nothing" "nothing" " nothing." \ 

Sometimes slowness, sometimes celerity is best; but 
for the most part gentle diligence is a superlative excel- 
lence, and the diligent worker will often be stimulated, 
and at the same time restrained by saying to himself, 
Hasten gently ; Festina lente. By working in this way a 
man lasts, for it is not work, but worry that kills. 

Cromwell could be quick and slow. Where delay was 
requisite he could employ the most indefatigable patience ; 
where celerity was necessary he flew to a decision. There 
is one that laboureth, and taketh pains, and maketh 
haste, and is so much the more behind. This maxim of 
Ecclesiasticus (xi. n) has been summarised into a pro- 
verb : The more haste, the worse speed. 

Some are apt to fancy it a great merit to have done 
their work in a very little time ; and such persons would 



* Dr. Livingstone's "Travels," p. 203. 
f Rien, rien, rien. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 311 

be benefited by listening to the rough remark of the 
sculptor Gibson — himself a genius — " No one will ask 
how long you have been, except fools." No doubt 
quickness is the most popular,* and the multitude that 
is enraptured with the rapid movements of a juggler 
would despise the slow processes of genius ; but then the 
judgment of the multitude is neither correct nor lasting. 
It is said, that when Agatharcus, the painter, valued him- 
self upon the celerity and ease with which he finished 
his pieces, Zeuxis replied, " If I boast, it shall be of the 
slowness with which I finish mine." t 

When one boasts that he has done his work in little 
time, we are inclined to wish that he had taken longer 
time. Cromwell and his party boasted that they had 
employed only four days in drawing up a constitution, 
by which the whole government of three kingdoms 
was to be adjusted for all generations. There appears 
no difficulty in believing them ; it was so badly 
done. It may be accepted as an axiom that hurry 
is always slow ; and often throws a man backwards in- 
stead of forwards. 

The vigil does not help — at least, not as a rule. On 
one occasion Cicero was ambitious to outdo Hor- 
tensius, who had already spoken with great applause ; for 
which reason he sat up all night to prepare. But that 
watching and application hurt him so much that he next 
day appeared inferior to his rival. 

Diligence prevails. Look at such an one as Philip of 
Macedon ; marching and toiling in person, present on 

* Aristoph. Eccles., 583. f Plut. in Pericles. 



312 DULCE DO MUM. 

all occasions,* neglecting no time or season. Probably it 
was owing to this, that the Philippics of Demosthenes are 
full of exhortations to energetic diligence. We can easily 
imagine who suggested to his mind this observation : 
"All men will side with and respect those whom they 
see prepared and willing to make proper exertion;" 
and again, the powerful argument from past neglect. The 
Athenians were unprosperous because they had done 
nothing needful ; if they had performed their duties, and 
affairs were still amiss, there would, he argues, have 
been no hope of amendment. 

Let every one work well while he is young and strong, 
that he may provide in manifold ways for that period 
so pathetic, the evening of life. And yet it may be 
delusive to expect old age — it may therefore be wiser 
to look on each day as a furrow made by Time's plough, 
and to sow the good seed therein, knowing that night 
comes and closes it up. 

Ill . — Perseverance. 

It is not enough to deliberate and sketch a plan, it is not 
enough to begin to carry it out ; we need to work on 
with continuous patience till we have embodied our con- 
ception in act, and till we have fully accomplished our 
purpose. This is perseverance; and it is a quality 
greatly needed in life, for the impulse which conceives 

* Cicero in an eloquent passage (Orat. in Catil., iii. 7), describes 
personal and painstaking supervision : — " Neque vero, quum aliquid 
mandaverat, confectum putabat : nihil erat, quod non ipse obiret, 
occurreret, vigilaret, laboraret." 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 313 

and commences a work is apt to evaporate, and men 
grow weary or discouraged, and leave their undertaking 
incomplete. 

When a man is labouring without recognition and with- 
out success ; when his efforts are treated with neglect or 
with indignity, when he suffers day after day under the 
slow ulceration of disappointment, the most requisite and 
the most valuable quality in such circumstances is perse- 
verance. Again, when a man has become prosperous, he 
is often in danger of relaxing. Then he finds, sometimes 
too late, that as much pains and diligence are necessary 
to sustain, as in the first instance to gain success. Per- 
severance seems to be the faculty provided by Nature 
against this dangerous tendency. 

Most pathetic is the history of the discouragements 
and failures of great men before they gained their degree 
of recognition. Many of them have been nearly slain by 
Giant Despair. The story of their triumph is all the 
more interesting and encouraging on this account. 
Demosthenes in his first address to the people was 
laughed at, and interrupted by their clamours ; and no 
doubt he had great defects, but he persevered in improve- 
ment till he became the first orator of Greece. Mr. Sothern 
speaking of his dramatic life said, " the early part of it 
was chiefly occupied in getting dismissed for incapacity." 
Edmund Kean was on the verge of suicide owing to his 
discouragements, but he persevered and triumphed. 

Two arguments seem specially fitted to sustain the 

baffled struggler — the one divine, the other human : first 

to feel that — 

' ' God has his plan 
For every man ; " 



314 DULCE DO MUM. 

and that no power can prevent us from filling the niche 
which God has destined for us. The second argument 
is derived from the law among men that, " A stone which 
is fit for the wall is not left in the way." Working on in 
that spirit, and making oneself manifestly useful, success 
will come at last, and come with ripened sweetness. The 
very first taste will make a thousand griefs forgotten. The 
experience of Marshal Massena awakens echoes of assent 
in ten thousand hearts. To become a corporal had cost 
him most trouble, but that promotion had given him the 
most satisfaction of all. 

Staleness, opposition, dissent, derision, incline the 
generality of men to relax their efforts. When the work 
is new the novelty delights, and a man applies to it with 
a will, but when this freshness has passed away, then 
comes the need of perseverance. 

The discovery of the circulation of the blood was ill 
received— most persons opposed it, many derided it; 
yet Harvey persevered. Vaccination was disbelieved 
and voted a nuisance ; yet Jenner persevered, and both 
Harvey and Jenner triumphed. These great examples 
are not too great for the smallest men. On the other 
hand, the smallest men may teach the greatest a lesson. 
William of Orange acknowledged that, in toiling for the 
great object of his life, he toiled with a patience resem- 
bling the patience with which he had seen a boatman on 
a canal strain against an adverse eddy, often swept back, 
but never ceasing to pull, and content if, by the labour 
of hours, a few yards could be gained. 

Perseverance is essentially a reduplication. It makes 
effort after effort, exerts energy after energy, borrowing 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 315 

an example from the sea, which, as soon as one wave 
breaks, sends up another to take its place. And this not 
with a dogged blindness, but with sagacity. For if the 
height be too great, he gets a higher ladder ; if the river 
is not fordable, he divides it into two.* 

This habit of perseverance has seldom, if ever, been 
wanting in great men. Caesar, in spite of ill-health ; 
Milton, in spite of blindness ; Peter the Great, in spite 
of barbarism ; Beethoven, in spite of deafness, are mere 
samples out of the legion of honour. It must be ad- 
mitted, however, that there are exceptions. When 
Pompey, at the' battle of Pharsalia, saw his cavalry 
routed, he was no longer himself, nor did he remember 
that he was Pompey the Great ; but, like a man deprived 
of his senses by some superior power, or struck with 
consternation at his defeat as the consequence of a divine 
decree, he retired to his camp without speaking a word, 
and sat down in his tent to wait the issue. Afterwards 
he laid aside the ensigns of a general, and fled privately 
in disguise. Defeat had paralysed him, w T hereas real 
perseverance rises above defeat. 

Perseverance overcomes obstacles, but " sagacious 
perseverance turns obstacles into stepping-stones." Won- 
derful power, that can turn difficulties to advantage, and 
learn success from defeat, so that, though it loses 
battles, yet it eventually wins the war. Some, who have 
been eminently successful afterwards, were unsuccessful 
at first. Like Frederick of Prussia and Wellington, 



* This was actually done by Thales in the case of the river 
Halys.— Herod., i. 75. 



3*6 DULCE DO MUM. 

Napoleon's first essay in arms proved unfortunate. The 
first attempt of England at colonisation was a miserable 
failure. 

It is one of the illusions of life that difficulties at a 
distance are magnified. We hear of some insuperable 
barrier in our way, we go up to it resolutely, and yet with 
trembling, and behold, " the iron gate opens of its own 
accord." This shows the value of courage, and courage 
is a main element in perseverance. Boldness carries a 
man to hell and heaven.* And hope, too, renews our 
strength,! and starts afresh after discouragements and 
misgivings, and faintness. 

Desultoriness is a habit very hostile to perseverance, 
for it does not allow the mind to dwell on one subject. 
It is too fond of the sweetness of change, J and too easily 
diverted from its main purpose by any chance object on 
the way. It may be very attractive and curious, but 
then, it is not the subject in hand. Nothing but what is 
of overwhelming importance should divert us from our 
course. There are prizes in the world which tempt a man 
to neglect his own proper work, and to divert his energy 
into unnatural channels. In such cases, success in the 
digression is failure in the main road of life. 

Ovid's § beautiful story of the race of Atalanta is quite 
a parable. She had run well, and now the last part of 
the course remained. Her competitor, ^Hippomanes, 
artfully threw down three golden apples at some distance 

* Greek Epigram. 

t " Redintegratis viribus, quod plerumque in spe victoriae acci- 
dere consuevit." — Caesar, De Be]]. Gall., iii. 26. 
\ [iSTafioXrj Trdvrwv yAuKU. — Eurip. Orest, 234. 
§ Metamorp., x. 676. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 317 

from one another. Atalanta, charmed at the sight, 
stopped to gather the apples, and lost the race. There 
are races all the world over, and golden apples thrown 
down to entice us from perseverance ; let us not stop to 
pick them up. 

It is possible to commence an undertaking with a 
definite end in view, and having the plan of procedure 
delineated in the mind ; but if the work lasts a long 
time, as we go on the original end becomes more vague, 
the plan is altered, and the result is something very 
different from the rudimental design. Sometimes the 
original purpose is even forgotten in the process of pur- 
suit, sometimes it undergoes a wonderful and unexpected 
transformation. A vase was intended, but it has turned 
out a little jar.* The attendants on the poor and the 
sick in the Hospital of St. John, in Jerusalem, in the pro- 
cess of enrichment, became military characters, the famous 
knights of St. John. 

It was the motto of a boy on his prize essay, but it is 
worthy of any man — My purpose is to advance. \ Without 
perseverance success is an accident rather than a result. 
Without perseverance a man is contemptible with his 
abandoned purposes, his half-finished works, and his for- 
gotten undertakings. By perseverance the most diffident 
will certainly advance further than they are. % Remember, 

* "Amphora coepit 
Institui ; currente rota cur urceus exit ? " 
Hor., A. P., v. 22. 

f " Est raihi in animo progredi." 

\ "Est quadam prodire terms, si non datur ultra." 

Hor. Ep., i. 1, 32. 



31 8 DULCE DO MUM. 

too, how in persevering you have the help of mysterious 
time : — " With time and myself there are two of us." But 
as there may be perseverance in error, in prejudice, and 
in wrong, it therefore should never be forgotten that per- 
severance counts but little, unless the pioneers delibera- 
tion and judgment go before. 



IV. — Earnestness and Competitio7i. 

One quality we express by three words in English — 
zeal, fervency, earnestness, which warrants a presumption 
that the quality prevails in the national character. 

Earnestness is a warm feeling, impelling us to action. 
In itself it is neither good nor bad ; it is neither a virtue 
nor a vice, but, so to speak, their temperature. It is the 
degree of intensity, with which men think, or feel, or act. 
Its value depends on the motive which originates it, and 
the object to which it is devoted. 

There are certain elements which ought to enter into 
combination with earnestness, and these are information 
and discretion. For want of knowledge, many crimes 
have been committed under the names of religion and 
patriotism. For want of discretion, dangers have been 
despised, good causes have been ruined, and zeal has 
rushed into the arms of death. 

It is a characteristic of earnestness, arising out of its 
ambiguous character, that it lends its strength to objects 
of an entirely different kind. It helps to make an active 
Christian as well as an energetic idolater, a Julian as 
readily as a Paul. When it exists in its proper condition, 



BD T S/A r £-SS OR PROFESSION. 319 

then it makes a man earnest on the side of good, and 
earnest against evil. 

Some eschew all feeling and earnestness ; but does not 
that indicate a low state of vitality ? The dead are 
always cold. It is greatly to be regretted that this 
apathy creeps into public schools, colleges, and univer- 
sities, affects some of the most learned and accomplished 
men, and deteriorates the great centres of national 
influence. The more refined people are, the less dis- 
posed are they to receive enthusiasm. The bright, 
polished surface will not absorb heat so readily as the 
black and rough. 

Earnestness sometimes shines forth in a weak and 
fragile body. Sometimes it burns in those who are 
naturally phlegmatic. That eminent Christian, Edward 
Bickersteth, in his childhood was considered reserved, 
and somewhat cold in his affections ; yet afterwards the 
ardour of Divine love glowed through his whole being.* 

It is amazing what difference heat makes on both 
mental and material objects. The only difference 
between ice and steam is, that the one has less, and the 
other more heat. Now earnestness converts ordinary 
qualities into powerful and elastic forces. It enhances 
everything it touches, turns brick to marble, and copper 
into gold. It changes liking into love, joy into ecstacy, 
and expectation into hope. It stamps on every virtue its 
currency, whether in earth or in heaven. Love, pity, 
kindness, are all cold and worthless, unless they bear the 
impress of a fervent spirit. 

* " Memoir of Rev. E. Bickersteth," p. 4. 



320 DULCE DO MUM. 

Earnestness, however, is not exempted from the laws 
of moderation. We may overdo in the best things, like 
birds that die from too much singing. 

The excess is apt to consume itself. How intense was 
the glow of early Christianity, and how the hardest 
hearts were melted ! With sufficient heat, every solid 
may be converted into the fluid state, but then there 
requires skilful management, otherwise the fluid, may be 
converted into vapour, and vanish. 

Dr. Arnold was a memorable example of earnestness ; 
and yet, as a boy, he was remarkably shy and indolent. 
The frank energy of his manhood gave him great 
influence over all that came within his range. But it is 
a question whether his intense earnestness was not a 
form of high pressure, that impaired the engine, through 
which the mind works. It may also be fairly doubted 
whether any educational institution, conducted on a con- 
stant strain of intellect and feeling, would be the best. 
It is sometimes found that a hot-bed becomes too hot for 
seeds and plants, and that the result is fermentation 
rather than a healthy and gradual germination. The 
analogy is too obvious to be stated at length. 

Earnestness is often boisterous, but it need not be. 
Our great Exemplar must have had this quality constantly 
and perfectly ; and yet his zeal did never strive nor cry, 
and in the streets no man did ever hear his voice. It is 
quite possible to have a calm zeal, and to be self-possessed 
in the midst of excitement. 

Earnestness loses all its beauty when it is artificial and 
unreal — when it is cultivated for show and to be seen of 
men. All assumptions are odious, but the assumption of 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 321 

zeal is specially odious on account of its hypocrisy. True 
earnestness is without parade, just as real steam is in- 
visible ; when it is condensed so that it may be seen, it 
is no longer steam but mist. 

That earnestness also is to be denounced which has a 
spurious origin. The source should be in the man him- 
self; and it will be, if he is in good condition. Passionate 
stimulants are unnecessary. A genuine man can be fer- 
vent in spirit without artificial excitement, just as the 
grape-juice can ferment without yeast. 

In this life of constant emulation,* earnestness is in 
the highest degree whetted by antagonism, conflict, and 
rivalry. Competition is one of the social laws running 
through all trades and professions ; and unless when 
abused it is not a hurtful, but a healthy law, for it calls 
forth energy, and energy intensifies talent. Sand, dis^ 
charged from a gun, kills birds, but blown by the wind it 
does not injure flies. 

Where there is no rivalry indolence is undisturbed. 
The old system of patents destroyed emulation, f When 
a man got a patent for the sole manufacture of any 
article rivalry was prevented, and a natural arrangement 
for the development of genius was overruled by a human 
law for the repression of genius. 

The ordinance of competition is salutary to all men, 

* T<£ TroXvZrjXy (Sly.— CEd. Tyr., 381. 

f How well-known truths seem for a time forgotten ! Sophocles 
saw long ago how rival energy profited the State : — 

To koXHjq ff ix ov 
ttoXsi Trakai(jjia. 

CEd. Tyr., 878. 

Y 



322 DULCE DOMUM. 

and especially to the indolent. We feel that we are sur- 
rounded by competitors, and that the hours, which we 
may be trifling away, are being diligently turned to 
account by some rival. 

To compare ourselves with others is wise ; to compare 
ourselves with others is foolish. All depends upon the 
class with whom we compare ourselves ; for if it is with 
superiors in order to stimulate ourselves, it is eminently 
wise ; but if it is with inferiors in order to encourage 
self-satisfaction, it is a suicidal folly. 

Reading the memoirs of those distinguished in our 
own calling aids us greatly in self-measurement, and 
fosters in us a covetousness of the best gifts. Who can 
ever forget the noble influence of this feeling in the 
young Themistocles ? When the battle of Marathon was 
fought, and the generalship of Miltiades was everywhere 
extolled, he was solitary, pensive, watched whole nights, 
and abstained from the usual entertainments. His 
friends wondering at the change, and asking an explana- 
tion, received this reply : — " The trophies of Miltiades 
will not suffer me to sleep." Modern history has a fine 
pendant to this picture of Plutarch. Francis I. was ob- 
served to weep at the recital of the military exploits of 
Gaston de Foix ; and these tears of emulation were held 
to be sure presages of his future valour. 

Care should be taken that competition does not de- 
generate into petty rivalry ; for then even the great 
become small. Queen Elizabeth betrayed this feeling in 
conversations with Sir James Melvil. She asked him 
whether Mary Queen of Scots had the finest hair ; and 
then which of them he esteemed the fairest person. She 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 323 

next demanded which of them was tallest, and also 
desired to know whether he thought Mary or her the 
best performer on the harpsichord.* 

It is deplorable when this feeling assumes the shape of 
religious quackery. What trick of trade was ever more 
shameful than the fiction of the Carmelites, when they 
gave out that the Virgin Mary appeared to Simon Stock, 
a general of their order, and promised him that no person 
should be eternally lost who should expire clothed in the 
short mantle worn on their shoulders by the Carmelites ? 
Doubtless there was a rush to invest in these scapulars. 
But their rivals were not behindhand, nor were they 
unsuccessful ; for many persons carefully inserted in their 
last wills that they would have their corpses wrapped in a 
sordid Dominican or Franciscan garment, and be buried 
among the Mendicants.! 

Success obtained unfairly can never be gratifying to a 
right-minded man. Life is a race, and there should be 
entire fairness in the race. It is a fine saying of Chry- 
sippus : " He who runs a race ought to strive to his utmost 
to win ; but he ought not by any means to supplant or 
drive out of the way the competitor with whom he 
runs."! 

Such an injustice might seem too gross and palpable ; 
still rivals may be equally unfair in a more refined and 
subtle way. They may mislead and deceive and win by 
craft. In war, people say inconsiderately, that all 
stratagems are lawful ; but that has not been the maxim 



* Hume's " History," c. 39. f Mosheim, pt. ii., c. ii. 

I Cic, De Of., iii. 10. 



324 DULCE DOMUM. 

of every famous general. Alexander refused to take a 
mean advantage of his enemy by attacking in the dark, 
and on that occasion uttered his famous aphorism, " I 
will not steal a victory." 

It is a mysterious law of life by which an unfair man 
often wins ; and it is a curious fact illustrative that when 
the State treats perfect coin and light coin as of equal 
value, the perfect coin will not drive the light coin out of 
circulation, but will itself be driven out. 

But there is a compensation, and the triumph of the 
unjust is diminished and spoiled, probably far more than 
we suppose, by a consciousness of wrong-dealing; and 
ill-gotten prizes become nauseous in the sight of their 
possessor.* During the contest his eagerness misleads 
him. All he thinks of is the sweetness of victory, and 
therefore he is unscrupulous about the means. If he 
is troubled by an occasional misgiving, he lulls the 
inward monitor by the assurance that he will afterwards 
repent and evermore be strictly just.f Suppose the 
prize is gained, conscience demands restitution, repu- 
tation requires retention, and sophistry says, Let it 
alone; and the man remains in unjust and anxious pos- 
session. 

Sometimes the inferior is preferred to the superior, as 
we see in political elections. Sometimes the inferior in 

* The time will come — 

" quum spolia ista diemque 
Oderit." — ^Eneid., x. 504. 

f dW rjSi) yap toi KTrj/xa rrjg viktiq Xafieiv, 
Tokfia' ditcciLOL d' av9ig £ic<pavovjxa6a. 

Soph. Philoc, Si. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 325 

position, rank, or general attainments is yet superior in 
some specialty, as many a silver watch goes better than 
one of gold. 

We must guard against unworthy feelings and unworthy 
sayings in respect of those who seem more successful 
than ourselves, and rivalry ought never to be allowed to 
pass into enmity. Competition is a social, but it ought 
to be a friendly, war. This generous feeling is more 
especially requisite in regard to those who have preceded 
us in the same sphere. It is a worthy desire to wish not 
to fall short of our predecessors, but to depreciate or 
disparage them is an offensive and transparent policy. 
Their deeds, if generously regarded, will stimulate and 
benefit us. 

The perverse will ascribe success to anything rather 
than to the right cause. Sometimes a man has ascribed 
the success of his rival to magic, and his own failure to 
misfortune, when the true explanation has been that the 
one has been in bed, while the other was working. 

Though competition is a useful stimulus, yet it may be 
doubted whether it is calculated to draw out the highest 
and the most natural powers, and that in the least dis- 
turbed way. In the opinion of a man of genius and 
experience, John Gibson, " Competition is calculated to 
bring forth only mediocrity." * Many would coincide 
with this opinion, when they consider how a pecuniary 
prize affects starving genius — -how it tempts him out of 
his specialty — how it limits him to a hard and fast line — 
how it forces him to work against time, — how it keeps 

* Life, p. 203. 



326 DULCE DOMUM. 

his mind in a state of unnatural excitement, and how it 
deprives him of calm self-possession, which is the happiest 
condition for working. Here, as in every case, we must 
say, Not too much. It was certainly not a healthful 
national spirit, which existed among the Lacedemonians, 
when, as Plato says, their entire character was inflamed 
with a desire of superiority.* And it would also seem 
as if Homer rated this feeling too high, when he repre- 
sented Diomede as weeping indignant tears when his 
steeds were surpassed in the race.t When our Lord saw 
undue rivalry among his disciples he applied a corrective 
by taking a child and setting him in the midst of them. } 

If there are honours for the victor, there are also 
consolations for the vanquished. § Often when victory 
crowns a man, he goes away the worse; but when 
defeat scourges him, he goes away the better. If your 
rival has won unfairly you need not envy him. Suc- 
cess and wealth have often intoxicated men and led 
them into extravagance and peril and death. If they 
had been unsuccessful, their obscurity would have saved 
them from destruction. Truly in their case we see how 
" an exceedingly high reputation is a sad thing." |] It 
was a touching admonition which Parmenio addressed to 
his son Philotas, a man of pomp and ostentation, lofty 
and extravagant : " My son, be lessP 

Other penalties are imposed on the rising man. Every 



* Cic, De Of., i. 19. f Iliad, xxiii. 385. 

+ Mark ix. 35. \ " Solatia victo." — ^En., v. 365. 

|| TO ft' VITipKOTTWQ kXvEIV 

tv ftapv. — ^Esch. Agam., 466. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 327 

one who rises in the social scale above his original 
condition, must pay heavy penalties : embarrassments, 
awkwardness, perplexity, solecisms; he will be fortunate 
if he escape ridicule. 

In the midst of successful competition let there be no 
arrogance, but a constant feeling of dependence on a 
higher power. Let us bear in mind that one may lose in 
a single day the fruit of ten or twenty years — yea, the 
fruit of a whole life-time. 

It will help much to earnestness if we can realise that 
we are acting in a vast theatre, where all the wise and 
the good are spectators and ready to applaud any extra- 
ordinary merit. The dead, who have left us their endow- 
ments, the contemporaries who observe us, the posterity 
that will impartially judge us — are all trumpeters stirring 
us on to the charge, that we may fight gloriously the battle 
of life. 

Our energy is not to be spent at hazard ; but to be 
expended in intelligent and enlightened ways. We 
ought to be thoroughly masters of our business and 
profession, whatever it may be; and to know all that 
science, history, and logic can teach us on the special 
subject. Then we shall not proceed at random, but upon 
the assurance of science,* full of hope and full of confi- 
dence ; yet ever moderated by a submissive deference to 
the divine providence ; tor a presumptuous hope might 
provoke failure. Wise was that sculptor, who made 
Hope and Nemesis near an altar ; " the former that thou 



* Mtra tov itmjtov rrjg liriaTr)nr}Q OapaaXnorkpav 'iatvOai. — 

Thucyd., vi. 72. 



328 DULCE DOMUM. 

mayest have hope ; the latter that thou mayest not hope 
too much."* 

It may seem ungracious to suggest the benefit of sus- 
picion in the contests of life, and yet as long as human 
nature is what it is we must not trust our rivals entirely. 
Many a game of chess is lost for want of suspicion of the 
adversary's moves ; and this is equally true of the greater 
game, where men give and take more precious things 
than pieces and pawns. 

Last of all, let not the earnest man be ashamed to ask 
the divine blessing upon his efforts. It showed a devout 
wisdom in Homer to make the prayerless come last in the 
race.f We need not be surprised if it so happens in the 
great race of life. 

V. — Success. 

This is one of those results far more easily understood 
than described; and yet the word is an index to its 
own meaning. Success is the final step in a series, where 
one thing succeeds another, from its origin to its conclu- 
sion, in an orderly and progressive manner. 

When a man is upright and wise, success is the general 
rule ; but it must not be wondered at if good men do not 
always succeed, for success requires intellect as well as 
goodness. 

Herein is seen the mysterious skill with which the 
Deity has interwoven our present and future, and made 



Greek Epigrams," Westminster Selection, i. 82. 
f Tra.vvara.Toc; rjXOe diwiaov. 

Iliad, xxiii. 547. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 329 

them dependent upon each other. The husbandman re- 
joices in harvest in proportion to his diligence in seed- 
time, and so our future prosperity depends on our present 
energy, and skill, and character. It should be deeply im- 
pressed on the youthful mind, that the repasts of the future 
will be the fruits of the seeds which we are sowing now. 

It was a daring saying of Napoleon that Carnot had 
organized victory. Yet it is capable of a twofold interpre- 
tation. It might be profane and it might be sagacious. 
It cannot be doubted but a man may reverently and 
prudently organize success — by foresight, by calculation, 
by knowledge, and by promptitude. It was observed of 
the Athenians : * " They are the only people that suc- 
ceed to the full extent of their hope in what they have 
planned, because they quickly undertake what they have 
resolved." 

Sometimes success comes too easily and too rapidly. 
It was the saying of one : " I was ruined by too easy 
success in early life." It could not have been good 
for Photius to be ordained sub-deacon, deacon, priest, 
and patriarch in four successive days. The Seer might 
say to many others besides OEdipus : " This very success 
of thine has been thy ruin." f 

Hence it will appear that some successes are apparent 
and not real. They are delusive to the winners. The 
gambler may be gaining money and at the same time 
be losing more than money's worth, losing character, use- 
fulness and prospects. Sometimes the success is person- 
ally injurious and colours a man's character for life. 

* Thucyd., i, 70. t CEd. Tyr., 442. 



330 DULCE DOMUM. 

Home Tooke had a quarrel with the Prince of Wales 
respecting a right of way, and defeated the prince. 
This success seems to have influenced his turbulent after- 
life. Many have prided themselves upon high matri- 
monial alliances as means by which to mount to success, 
and they have not scrupled to use nephews and nieces, 
brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, as steps of a 
human ladder for their ambition ; yet these very marriages 
have often been made the occasions of accusation and im- 
peachment. Take one instance out of many. The prefect 
Plautianus gave his daughter in marriage to the eldest 
son of the Emperor Severus : an alliance which seemed 
to assure his fortune, but which in reality proved the 
occasion of his ruin. 

There are blessings in disguise : there are also curses 
in disguise. Sometimes promotion, a word which sounds 
so sweet to most men, is a curse. Gallus was transported 
from a prison to a throne, where he exhibited his inca- 
pacity and cruelty. At length vengeance overtook him, 
and with his hands tied behind his back he was beheaded 
in prison like the vilest malefactor. 

Prosperity produces both evil and good effects on 
men, and these opposite results deserve careful study. 
First we may consider in what ways it is pernicious to 
character. The insidious influence of prosperity is well 
seen in the deterioration of William Duke of Normandy. 
His bravery and candour procured him respect while at 
a distance, but he had no sooner attained the possession 
of power and enjoyment of peace, than all the vigour of 
his mind relaxed, and he fell into contempt amongst 
those who approached his person, or were subject to his 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 331 

authority. Alternately abandoned to dissolute pleasures 
and to womanish superstition, he was so remiss, both in 
the care of his treasure and the exercise of his govern- 
ment, that his servants pillaged his money with impunity 
and stole from him his very clothes. 

It is a curious fact that the thermometer falls the more 
the higher it is raised ; and it suggests the analogy that 
men are apt to decline in goodness the higher they rise 
in the world. The Earl of Torrington serves as an 
instance. In poverty and exile he rose from a voluptuary 
into a hero ; but as soon as prosperity returned, the hero 
sank again into a voluptuary, and the relapse was deep 
and hopeless.* 

Prosperity destroys the piety of some men. The sun 
shines on their fire, dulls it, and puts it out. But of 
course there are exceptions, and it is a noble sight to see 
virtues expanding with prosperity, as was the case with 
the Emperor Theodosius. 

Adversity has a tendency to repress our faults and 
vices. Prosperity, on the contrary, develops the evil 
that is in us, and develops it in exaggerated and fanciful 
ways. Men had need to beware of the alcohol of pros- 
perity, for it intoxicates like wine ; and then they are 
guilty of all sorts of fantastic conduct. Of course it was 
consistent with heathen ideas of divinity to imagine that 
Fortune raised some from a very low to a very exalted 
position to make sport out of their grotesque sayings and 
doings.t 

* Macaulay's "History," v. 58. 

f " voluit Fortuna jocari," Juv., iii. 40. — One becomes more 

reconciled to this daring image, on seeing some conspicuous eleva- 



332 DULCE DO MUM. 

An intelligent man in his prosperity must sometimes 
feel how different would be the bearing of friends and 
acquaintances if he were to be reduced to poverty. 
Such a reflection must tinge prosperity with bitterness. 
In Egypt there were two statues erected before the por- 
tico of the temple of Vulcan, one called Summer and 
another Winter. They honour and worship Summer, but 
they treat Winter in quite a contrary way.* 

Envy is one of the fines of success. All the nobility 
hated Cromwell, the Lord Chamberlain, who, being a 
man of low extraction, had mounted above them. Envy 
followed Belisarius like a shadow. The people accom- 
panied his triumph with acclamations of joy and grati- 
tude, which were imputed as a crime to the victorious 
general. But, when he entered the palace, the courtiers 
were silent, and the emperor, after a cold and thankless 
embrace, dismissed him to mingle with the train of 
slaves. 

The heights of prosperity have ever been regarded as 
dangerous as the heights of mountains — exposed to the 
thunderbolts of God and man. Lofty pines, lofty towers, 
lofty stations of all kinds are in greatest jeopardy. How 
many eminent ones pined in the Tower of London and 
died on Tower Hill, simply because they were great and 
conspicuous marks for royal caprice and bloodthirstiness. 
It is probably for these and such-like reasons that some 



tion of incapacity, the overweening self-conceit of the pompous, 
the supercilious pride of rank, the richly endowed dogmatism of 
ecclesiastics, and the insane arrogance of infallibility. He that 
made laughter, shall he not laugh ? 
* Herod., ii. 121. 



BUSINESS OR PROFESSION. 333 

have dreaded the approach and trembled in the presence 
of prosperity.* 

It is a penalty attendant on the passions that in- 
dulgence increases their force and appetite. This is 
particularly the case with money. Juvenal notes that 
the love of money increases as much as the money itself 
increases. Now, if a man is loaded with a preternatural 
quantity of blood or of prosperity, the tendency is the 
same in both cases to congestion. A wise man guards 
against the danger of repletion, but " the prosperity of 
fools destroys them." 

Having noticed the injurious influences of prosperity — 
how it often undermines character, how it relaxes virtue 
and deadens piety, how it develops evil and intoxicates 
like wine, and how it exposes to envy and perils and 
death, we may perhaps be less anxious to secure a large 
amount of success. At the same time the question has 
another side, and prosperity has many good effects. 

Success produces hope and confidence, and is one of 
the best hygienic agents. The victorious army has but 
few on its sick-list, the defeated army has crowded ambu- 
lances and hospitals ; and generally speaking moderate 
prosperity exercises a very beneficial influence on a man 
altogether; it sweetens temper, improves health, and stimu- 
lates intellect, and in the really good it quickens devotion. 

When prosperity has been rightly obtained then it can 
be fully enjoyed. When a man has done his work well 



* " Metuit secundis 
Alteram sortem bene praeparatum 
Pectus." — Hor. Car., ii. 10, 13. 



334 DULCE DOMUM. 

then his " wages are perfumed " with the aroma of merit, 
but when it is otherwise, sorrow is appropriate to success 
rather than joy. This is the explanation of some cases, 
where prosperity distils no joy, and success yields no 
delight. Many have succeeded where they had better 
have failed. One may succeed in deceiving and over- 
reaching others, and in making them captive to his will ; 
but success in wrong-dealing is a thing on all accounts 
to be deplored. Hence appears the solemnity and 
responsibility of success. The Emperor Akbar played a 
game at a sort of chess, where the pieces were all female 
slaves splendidly dressed, and whoever won carried off 
the sixteen ladies.* This game, rude and barbarous as 
it may appear, is yet an image of the greater game of life. 
For men win wives, and with them children and new 
relations ; they also win friends and patrons, and they 
also lose them. 

Success must not terminate in self. A man who has 
succeeded in getting all sorts of good things for himself, 
and has not succeeded in benefiting humanity, must be 
regarded as a failure. That no one may come short in 
this way let him often ponder the vow made by Sir John 
Herschel and some of his young college friends, that each 
would strive to do his utmost to leave the world better 
than he found it.f 

We must daily have fresh successes. It will not do to 
contemplate the prizes and medals gained in boyhood, 
and say to oneself, " // is enough.''' That man is sure to 



* " Up the Country," by Hon. E. Eden, ii. 208. 

f Dean Stanley's "Funeral Sermon on Sir J. Herschel." 



BUSINESS OR PROFESS/ON. 335 

be disappointed who lives upon the past and cherishes 
early successes in his memory, not considering that they 
have become withered leaves. 

It is related that a Carthaginian once addressed the 
great general of his country with this reproach, " Han- 
nibal, you know how to gain a victory, but not how to 
use it." This epigram applies to many things besides 
wars ; it is applicable to the commonest occurrences of 
daily life — to the acquisition of money, property, honour, 
influence, place, and friends. To use all these wisely 
and for good requires no small amount of generalship. 
We need not be ashamed to enjoy " the good things which 
God has not been ashamed to give us ; " but our enjoy- 
ment should always save a remnant to share with others, 
so as to multiply joy. Some postpone this enjoyment to 
some future and indefinite time, often till extreme age, 
forgetting that though things continue the same they are 
not the same to the old as to the young, but have lost 
their relish and attractiveness. They resemble the Fou- 
lahs, a nation of Africa, who never drink their milk until 
it is quite sour.* 

We have enough and think it little. How many would 
count our income a fortune ! To have enough is better 
than excessive prosperity. There are many things besides 
better than success, better than wealth. To know the 
glorious facts of science and history, to be able to read 
and speak in different languages, to have the calm and 
ennobling hopes of religion — how much better than mere 
worldly success ! 

* " Park's Life and Travels," p. 51. 



336 DULCE DO MUM, 

That success is narrow which is limited by the horizon 
of this world. True success is to be measured by the 
circles of eternity. A man may have succeeded in 
gaining wealth, honour, friends, and all that is desir- 
able and glorious in life, and yet not have succeeded in 
securing a place in our Father's house, where are many 
mansions ; and if so, his temporal success is not for a 
moment to be compared with his everlasting failure. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



ADVERSITY. 



It may be assumed that the time of trouble comes to all, 
and that no home is exempt from the entrance of afflic- 
tion. Our enemies call our trials punishments, our 
friends call them troubles ; but a Christian knows that 
they are necessary and loving chastisements. He knows 
that without the cross-threads there could be no web of 
life, and he knows that the shuttle which inserts them is 
not shot by chance. 

Those sufferings, which we have inherited, or which 
have come upon us without our fault, are to be regarded 
as a part of our probation for a better life. Those 
sufferings which we have brought upon ourselves, and 
they are the sharpest,* are to be regarded as a punish- 
ment, not vindictive but corrective ; and, if so regarded, 
they can be received with welcome and turned to good 
account. This is obvious enough in great offences, but 
not so observable in minor faults. Thus, when a man is 



* TUiV ce TTTj/JIOVWV 

fiakiara Xvjtowct' ai (pavGitj' avBaipsToi. 

CEd. Tyr., 1230. 



338 DULCE DO MUM. 

vainglorious and boastful, failure often makes a rift in his 
flute. Now. if he is wise, he accepts the correction and 
plays no more tunes of egotism. 

Untaught and unreflecting sufferers might ask, Of what 
use are afflictions ? We might respond by asking, Of 
what use are the winds ? They disperse the clouds and 
purify the air. Afflictions have a like use and office — 
they drive away our dreamy vapours and purge the soul 
from stifling passions. Christianity, rich in images, 
speaks of purification by another element, by fire ; for 
the Holy Spirit is represented as a flame burning in 
men's hearts, and purifying them that they may contain 
holy doctrine. So the wine cask is charred inside to 
keep the liquor sweet and good. 

A thoughtful mind can often discover God's purpose 
in sending affliction. Suppose a man basking in luxurious 
wealth, and God sends him a gloomy trial. The man 
reflects, and comes to regard the affliction as a cloud 
interposed to shade him from the scorching rays of a too 
prosperous sun. 

Or suppose a man suffers from evil falsely spoken. 
Believing that there is good in everything, he comes to 
the conclusion that God may permit some evil report to 
shade his character, but that it will only heighten real 
integrity. He remembers that all lamps burn better with 
a shade than without one.* 

Or if a man is struggling into the foremost ranks, and 
has to suffer from jealousy, envy, and abuse, he can 

* " The British cabinet endured opprobrium for many years rather 
than endanger the authors of some secret information." — Alison's 
"History," c. 51, 43. 



ADVERSITY. 339 

console his mind with the homely fact which one has 
observed that " we first smear what we want to polish ;" 
for abuse is often the preliminary to brilliancy. 

Patience is one of the highest attributes of wisdom.. 
Who would not admire Tacitus waiting till his genius had 
attained maturity, till he was more than forty years of 
age, before he published any of his delightful histories ? 
Who would not admire Harvey, waiting and experi- 
menting till he was fifty, before he published his treatise 
on the circulation of the blood ? Who would not sym- 
pathize with Edmund Kean, expending labour and genius 
on performances that obtained no recognition, while his 
wife was praying that God might see fit to terminate their 
sufferings by death? Many a patient genius after a 
transient notice has again been merged in obscurity, and 
has unconsciously imitated those Greek rivers * that dis- 
appeared in vast gaps, flowed for a time underground, and 
rose again under more celebrated names. 

Well worthy of being reproduced here is an extract 
from an " Eloge de M. le Baron Cuvier," by Laurillard : 
" Imitate nature, which, in the development of beings, 
acts by gradation, and gives time to every member to 
grow to perfection. The infant remains nine months in 
its mother's womb ; man's physical perfection only takes 
place between twenty and thirty, and his moral com- 
pletion from thirty to forty. Constitutions must have 
ages to produce all their fruits : witness Christianity, the 
effects of which are not yet accomplished, notwithstanding 
eighteen centuries of existence." 

* The Ladon, e.g. 



34Q DULCE DO MUM. 

Disappointments are trials, and men are often griev- 
ously distressed when they do not obtain the appoint- 
ment which they expect, or when they see another of 
less merit and fitness preferred before them. Sometimes 
afterwards they read the reason in providence ; but if not, 
let them listen to the voice which says : " What I do 
thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 

A man may be eager after some object, and make mad 
efforts to obtain his desire. Notwithstanding all he fails. 
Now, if he is wise, he will look on this disappointment as 
the ice which God lays on the inflammation of desire. 
There is real manliness in such courageous resignation. 
The proverb of sour grapes must not frighten us from 
rejoicing when God denies us the desires of our hearts. 

In every trial some beneficial influence may be found, 
and this principle of interpretation may be applied all 
through life, and help to persuade men that adversity is 
not only beneficial but necessary. The liquor of life 
would be too luscious did not God infuse into it the 
cooling acid juice of trial. Probably a man lasts all the 
longer for moderate trials. The preservative power of 
adversity is akin to that of cold, and certainly a hard life 
braces the intellectual and moral powers ; just as, on the 
contrary, not only the enamel of the teeth, but the enamel 
of the character wastes away when it is saturated with 
luxury. 

This intelligent interpretation of trials is only one of 
their many alleviations. God sends many gleams of sun- 
shine amidst the gloom. In the dark hour of adversity 
it seems as if the light of God's countenance were hid ; 
and yet, watching, you will see that Providence has a 



ADVERSITY. 341 

revolving light, which appears and disappears and then 
reappears again. 

It is also a comfort to bear in mind that trial is not 
destructive. Keep hope and elasticity ; then, like the 
tender sea-anemone, you may be dashed by the waves, 
but not broken. 

Patience is ill-favoured when it is reluctant, but 
beautiful when cheerful. A man must not go to suffer 
reluctantly, nor when he feels the first stroke must he 
recoil and run off, like an ox brought to the altar, which 
at the first blow breaks loose and bounds along the plain. 
Perhaps this animal dread may remind some of a Countess 
of Salisbury, who refused to lay her head on the block. 
She told the executioner that, if he would have her head, 
he must win it the best way he could; and thus, 
shaking her venerable grey locks, she ran about the 
scaffold ; and the executioner followed her with his axe, 
aiming many fruitless blows at her neck before he was 
able to give the fatal stroke. It is manifest that this 
reluctance would only protract suffering, whereas un- 
resisting patience curtails the period of anguish. In 
the Reign of Terror the victims purposely kept their 
hands down, lest by warding off the strokes of the 
executioner they should prolong their sufferings. 

Some men without making any active opposition, yet 
suffer with a dogged, suilen humour, as if despising the 
chastening of the Lord. There have been other sufferers 
who have been able " to make misery their mirth and 
affliction a toy to jest at." * Neither of these classes is 

* "Two Noble Kinsmen," ii. I. 



342 DULCE DOMUM. 

satisfactory, for those who are naturally callous, who feel 
neither sin nor shame, and who are sensitive neither 
bodily nor mentally, are not entitled to the praise of 
patience ; and those who jest at trials do not realize 
their import, nor learn the lessons which they are designed 
to teach. Patience is something very different from in- 
sensibility ; and he who bears his crosses as a Stoic does 
not bear them as a Christian. The callous and undig- 
nified apathy of Anne of Cleves differs greatly from the 
sensitive and magnanimous patience of Strafford. 

It may be a question whether some by their unyielding 
and disobedient spirit do not provoke God to send them 
trials. Certainly those who will not be plastic and 
moulded by a kind Providence, should remember that 
they are malleable, and can be beaten into shape by the 
hammer of adversity. 

The proud and luxurious do not bear troubles so well 
as poor and lowly Christians. Those break and these 
bend. It is the same in the outside world. After a fierce 
tempest the wrecks of great ships lie strewn upon the 
beach, while the tiny shell-fish may be seen in their little 
wells as numerous and active as ever. 

Men not only shun the duties which they ought to do, 
but the trials which they ought to bear. They pass the 
cup which God appointed them to drain. Others, as 
if by contrast, anticipate evils and like wrestlers joyously 
prepare to grapple with them. 

There is, of course, a danger of using wrong remedies. 
Wine drives away cares, but how soon they come back 
again. We may not blunt our trials by wrong methods, 
remembering how Jesus refused the stupefying drink. 



ADVERSITY. 343 

Nor may we take off the edge of conscience by applying 
false comfort to ourselves or listening to untrue consola- 
tion from others. Great people especially, when they do 
wrong, are sure to have flatterers about them, ready to 
demonstrate that the wrong was right. After Alexander 
the Great had murdered his friend Clitus, he passed that 
night and the next day in great anguish, first shedding 
tears and uttering lamentations, and then lying in speech- 
less grief. Then came Anaxarchus with his false philo- 
sophy, and on entering the room cried out : " Is this 
Alexander ? Can it be he, lying on the ground and crying 
like a slave, fearing the law and the tongues of men, to 
whom he himself should be a lata, and the measure of right 
and wrong? Know you not" continued he, " that Jupiter 
is represented with Themis and Justice by his side, to show 
that whatever is done by supreme power is right ? " In 
this way he alleviated the king's grief, but made him more 
haughty and unjust. 

There are, however, right remedies, and it is wise in 
distress to avail ourselves of all lawful comforts, for these 
are the anodynes which God gives to relieve our pain. 
There is chloroform for the mind as well as for the body, 
and no one need refuse to be comforted. The real distinc- 
tion to be borne in mind is this, that in order to diminish 
pain we may suspend sensation, but we may not stupefy 
reason. 

A man need not sit down as a fatalist, waiting till God 
deliver him. Let him first use his own powers (and they 
are from God), and strive to effect his own deliverance. 
Rivers form channels for themselves, narrow, deep, dark, 
it may be, yet by which they escape to the sea ; and why 



344 DULCE DO MUM. 

should not intelligent man work out for himself an exit 
from straits and formidable difficulties. 

There is a great solace in discriminating between the 
real and apparent good, and between that which is good 
absolutely, and that which is good relatively; and so 
valuing our possessions and our losses justly. This 
faculty was of excellent service to the Marquis of Mont- 
rose in the last and melancholy scene of his life. The 
executioner brought that book, which described his great 
military actions, and tied it by a cord about his neck. 
Montrose smiled at this new instance of malice. He 
thanked his enemies for their officious zeal ; and said that 
he bore this testimony of his bravery and loyalty with 
more pride than he had ever worn the garter. 

When we value our possessions in excess, then we 
proportionally feel their loss. This excessive valuation 
extends also to things which we do not possess, but 
which we long for. Few of the prizes so esteemed among 
men are so precious as we imagine : many of them are 
burdensome, some of them are worthless, some of them 
are fatal ; and a prudent man may be thankful that they 
have not fallen to his lot. 

Deprivation enhances the enjoyment of blessings when 
they are restored. " I shall never forget," said Dr. Living- 
stone, " the delicious pleasure of lying down on a 
bed after sleeping six months on the ground." * This 
principle admits of indefinite extension. Adversities, 



* A touching personal allusion of Socrates is quite a parallel : — 
'E7T£t5/) vtvo tov Stapiou r\v kv rij) (TiceXti irponpov to dXyeivov, rjKtiv 
$rj <paiverai kiraicoXovQovv to i)$i>. — Phaedo, iii. 



ADVERSITY. 345 

struggles and difficulties have their joys. Each relief from 
pain is exquisite ; each triumph thrilling ; and it may be 
that in the moral as well as in the natural world, dark 
colours are warmer than light ones. Sir Walter Scott 
describes the intrusion of light, and even ludicrous 
images, amid all his sorrows. This elasticity of spirit, 
which, in spite of nature herself, as it were, will rebound 
under pressure, is one and not the least of God's bless- 
ings. And it is wonderful as showing the thoughtfulness 
of God. Then there is the comfort of hope — the sensible 
conviction that there will come a. change for the better, 
and the resolution to preserve ourselves for that better 
time : * the effort to look at the favourable rather than the 
unfavourable side of things : " a turn of mind, which it is 
more happy to possess, than to be born to an estate of 
ten thousand a year." f 

Why do so few see these comforts and alleviations ? 
It is because they do not cultivate habits of reflection and 
observation ; because they do not consider, because they 
are not on the outlook for divine signals. It is only the 
wakeful eye that sees the midnight meteor. 

There is a sort of occasional piety, which manifests 
itself in the time of trouble. It is greatly to be distrusted. 
It seems excited merely by the occasion, and it is tran- 
sient and evanescent. It is an organ-piety, which only 
sounds when the blower sends in wind. 

Although the object of trial is to benefit and purify, 
yet on some it has the opposite effect. God places a 



* "Durate, et vosmet rebus servate secundis." — 2Eu., i. 207. 
t "My own Life," by Hume. 



34 6 DULCE DO MUM. 

man in the furnace of affliction, and would bring him 
out, leaving nothing but the dross behind \ but the way- 
ward leave their patience as well. 

In sickness and suffering patience co-operates mightily 
with the physician, and is indeed one of the best remedial 
agents ; but when the sick man tosses about and fumes 
with passion, he reminds one of the African proverb : — 
"To make a somersault will not remove a rupture." 
Peevish impatience excites contempt and ridicule, some- 
times even disgust. It destroys sympathy, and makes 
friends afraid to tell the true state of the case; perhaps 
excites a wish that the impatient patient might die. 
Peevishness also destroys admiration. A murmur on the 
cross would have spoiled redemption. 

Some might be shamed out of their murmurs and 
complaints if they could realise how they furnish mirth 
for others. A reckless nobleman once engaged in 
treasonable practices. His king had him put to the tor- 
ture, and placed himself behind the tapestry to hear the 
examination. The traitor bemoaned in a piteous man- 
ner, and had recourse to mean supplications. " Durst 
thou," said a bystander, " with all this unmanly weakness, 
embark on so great and hazardous an enterprise ?" Now, 
a man should always measure his complaints as if there 
were friends, ay, and enemies, behind the screen. Re- 
lations, visitors, servants, somehow see how small he is, 
and how unfit for any great undertaking. 

How much are they mistaken who obtrude their sores 
upon us — they excite only disgust, while they expect 
sympathy, pity, admiration even. That great master of 
decorum knew better, when he described Glaucus con- 



ADVERSITY. 347 

cealing himself that none might perceive his wounds.* 
Crossness, discontent, fretfulness, repining, and peevish- 
ness, are the exhibitions of moral ulcers, which no pru- 
dent man will discover to another. 

Self-interest should teach a man that a burden becomes 
lighter by being patiently borne, f They tell us that 
Protagoras in his youth was a porter, and made up fag- 
gots of wood skilfully, and carried them lightly and expe- 
ditiously. One day Democritus noticed the scientific 
adjustment of the burden, begged him to rest and undo 
the load, then to make it up again. The young man 
obeyed, and made it up in the same way. The sage, 
admiring his skill, took him and maintained him, taught 
him philosophy, and made him the great man that he 
afterwards became.;}; 

It is evident that some trials which God sends to men 
are final and penal. The proud man is not healed by 
his punishment. § No more is the hardened. Moral 
putrefaction has set in ; the disease ends in death, and 
that often before the natural time. We ought therefore 
reverently to pray, Enter not into judgment, O God ; 
if thou come to me, do not bring thy scale and 
weights. 

It would be a very pernicious assumption if we were 
to attribute all our trials directly to God, as if we had in 
nowise contributed to bring them about. For instance, 
if he sends failure, yet it is generally our misconduct 



* Iliad, xii. 390. 

f Hor. Car., i. 24, 19 — "levius fit patientia." 

% A. Gell., v. 3. § EccIuf. iii. 28. 



348 DULCE DO MUM. 

which is the cause. In battles no runaway accuses 
himself, but his general, his neighbour, any one rather ; 
though, sure enough, the defeat is owing to all the 
runaways — for each who accuses the rest might have 
stood his ground, and had each done so, they would 
have conquered.* 

How many blame the place, the neighbourhood, the 
climate, the position, the country, the town ! As the 
prince of common-sense said, long ago, " Each of us is 
a fool for unjustly blaming the innocent place. The 
mind is in fault, which never escapes from itself." \ Now, 
if a man does not foolishly blame other persons and 
places for his failures, but takes the blame upon himself, 
and tries to avoid them in future and to profit by them, 
he is most wise. There is a wonderful mixture of blame 
and praise awarded by a historian in his estimate of 
William of Orange. He was repeatedly defeated ; but 
of all generals he was the best qualified to repair a defeat. 
He had undergone defeats in the field, and defeats in the 
senate, but his wisdom and firmness had turned defeats 
into victories. 

There is something sublime in the claim of the 
Admiral Coligni. " In one respect? said he, " / may 
claim superiority over Alexander, over Scipio, over 
Ccesar. They won great battles, it is true. I have lost 
four great battles ; and yet I show to the enemy a more 
formidable front than ever." We may imitate him by 
cultivating elasticity of spirit for the smaller battles 
of life ; and then, though temporarily compressed by 

* Demos., Olynth. iii. t Hor., Ep. i. 14, 12. 



ADVERSITY. 349 

adversity, we shall soon spring out into our former size 
and proportions. 

Under opposition some seem to have the faculty of a 
bird of paradise, which flies more easily against the 
wind. It may be because they do not give way to mis- 
fortunes and discouragements, but are stimulated by them 
to make greater efforts.* The very difficulty therefore 
braces them to a more hearty and vigorous exertion of 
their powers. 

A strange theology betrays itself in a prayer of Ulysses 
to Jupiter: "Sometime overmuch ye afflicted me;" \ but 
Christianity teaches us that we are in a Father's hand, 
and that he will not heat the furnace a single degree 
beyond what we are able to bear. No thermometer can 
mark the heat so accurately as our loving Father does. 
Moreover, great trials are lessened comparatively by 
great grants of strength. "As thy day is, so shall thy 
strength be." A great sorrow is counterbalanced by a 
great joy; a great infirmity by a great grace. God pre- 
serves the balance of life, and he is still Jehovah^Vr/fc. 
He provides a double coat of feathers for the bird before 
the winter comes. 

Great and manifest are the benefits of patience. It 
files away angles and obliquities ; it beautifies and 
perfects character. However good a man may be, 
yet he needs some touches of adversity's file. Even 
the Captain of our salvation was made perfect through 
sufferings. I 

* "Tu ne cede malis ; sed contra audentior ito." — JEn., vi. 95. 
t Odyss., xx. 98. 
% Heb. ii. 10. 



350 DULCE DOMUM. 

Where was a fruitful garden more unlikely to be found 
than in a prison ? And yet splendid fruits have grown 
there. The famous work of Boethius, " De Con- 
solatione Philosophise," was written in prison at Pavia. 
Buchanan's excellent version of the Psalms was begun 
when he was confined in the cell of a monastery in Spain. 
The immortal " Pilgrim's Progress " was written in Bed- 
ford Jail. The character of Queen Elizabeth was trained 
and pruned in prison. Ovid's " Tristia and Letters " 
were written during his banishment on the banks of the 
Euxine. Clarendon, in exile in France, commenced the 
continuation of his " Life," and reduced into order 
the " History of the Civil Wars." When we see the 
benefits of adversity, the good that has come out of evil, 
and the reforms that have arisen out of abuses, we can 
appreciate the Portuguese proverb — that God writes 
straight in crooked lines. 

Prosperity has an injurious effect on the moral hearing 
of men. Jeremiah's experience seems to have corre- 
sponded with the well-known fact that men hear better in 
cold than heat. He found that men in a prosperous 
condition were deaf even to the most sweet and powerful 
voice of God. " I spake unto thee in thy prosperity ; 
but thou saidst, I will not hear." * The tendency of 
adversity is the reverse. It makes men listen, it makes 
them docile, it brings them to their senses again. Sharp 
hunger effected for the Prodigal Son what neither the 
comforts of home, nor a father's love, nor a distribution 
of property, nor a foreign journey, nor gay society, nor 
luxurious living could accomplish. 

* Jer. xxii. 21. 



ADVERSITY. 351 

Manna excited only loathing among the Israelites, 
and poisoned their spirits ; but, strange to say, that 
poison was counteracted by the serpent's fang. That 
which was a poison to their bodies was an antidote to 
their souls. The serpents bit them into penitence, bit 
them into confession, bit them into amendment and 
wisdom. 

Suffering teaches.* It teaches how to avoid previous 
mistakes, and makes failure a means of learning. It also 
disposes us to sympathize with the unfortunate,! and 
prevents us from inconsiderate condemnation. 

Some of the Greeks fancied that afflictions were in- 
stances of divine anger and hatred. We Christians, on 
the contrary, believe in the sympathy of God, knowing 
that " He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up 
their wounds." { We also believe that whom the Lord 
loveth he chasteneth ; and from experience and observa- 
tion we are assured that all things, good and evil, wise 
and foolish, § work together for good. This belief is a 
broad and firm pedestal for patience to rest upon. This 
basis will stand when all winds seem adverse, and the 
tempest with violent gusts and eddies seeks to throw it 
down. When Bernard Gilpin, the apostle of the north, 
was on his way to expected martyrdom, he had frequently 
observed to his keepers by the way, that nothing befalls 
us but what is intended for our good. After this he 



* iraQti fxadog. — .ZEsch. Agam., 177. 

f " Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco." — JEn., i. 630. 
X Ps. cxlvii. 3. 

§ Not but that heathen writers had a glimpse of this. — Cf. 
Aristoph. Eccl., 475. 



35 2 DULCE DOMUM. 

met with an accident, and they inquired with a sneer 
"Whether he thought that his broken leg was so 
intended ? " He meekly answered that he had no doubt 
it was; and so it turned out, for he was detained on 
the road by the accident, and in the interval Queen Mary 
the persecutor died. The snare was broken, and he was 
delivered.* 

Such a conviction is most useful during sickness, for 
then one is apt to be out of sorts, uneasy, restless, 
impatient, and discontented ; but the belief that it is 
for our good produces patience, and patience adorns 
the sufferer and his profession. The want of this know- 
ledge and belief makes men more irascible in illness, 
more fretful, and self-indulgent. That breath, which is 
so lavishly wasted in querulous exclamations, might 
certainly be utilized to more beneficial and heavenly 
purposes. 

One may see on the large scale of history great 
instances of evil turning into good. There were the 
Crusades. Owing to them, in a conspicuous degree, 
feudalism was undermined. The estates of the barons 
were dissipated, and their race was often extinguished, 
in those costly and perilous expeditions. Their poverty 
extorted from their pride those charters of freedom which 
unlocked the fetters of the slave, secured the farm of the 
peasant and the shop of the artificer, and gradually 
restored a substance and a soul to the most numerous 
and useful part of the community. The conflagration 
which destroyed the tall and barren trees of the forest, 

* Hone's "Life," p. 30. 



ADVERSITY. 353 

gave air and scope to the vegetation of the smaller and 
nutritive plants of the soil.* 

There was likewise immense benefit from the fire of 
London. The metropolis became much more healthy 
after the fire. The plague, which used to break out with 
great fury twice or thrice every century, and indeed was 
always lurking in some corner or other of the city, has 
scarcely ever appeared since the calamity. 

Convulsions that have rent rocks asunder, thunder- 
storms that have scattered death and destruction on every 
side ; inundations that have separated continents and 
islands, have all been manifestly or presumably beneficent, 
doing a rapid and limited damage in order to a durable 
and largely extended good. The scientific man, whether 
willingly or reluctantly, bears evidence to the Scripture 
doctrine that all things are working together for good. 

What is true in the natural, is equally true in the 
moral world. The noblest character is ever developed 
by afflictions, just as the finest balsam is obtained by in- 
cisions. No character is truly heroic without suffering. 
This may be the reason why iEneas fails to excite sym- 
pathy, because he so easily overcomes difficulties, and is, 
on the whole, such a comfortable hero. 

Since the prizes of patience are so precious, no wonder 
that some have spontaneously offered to enter the arena 
of affliction. Such a candidate was the good Arch- 
bishop Usher. He had adopted the notion that affliction 
was a necessary mark of being a child of God, and 
earnestly prayed that he might be dealt with accordingly. 

* Gibbon's "Decline and Fall," c. lxi. 
A A 



354 DULCE DO MUM. 

The spirit of the primitive Christians was even more 
gladiatorial. The heathen magistrates were astounded 
to perceive that death had lost its terrors — that torture 
had lost its horrors. The Christians actually wooed 
death, and begged the privilege of being sent to heaven 
by the axe and the fires of persecution. Doubtless, it is 
unwise to pray to God for trial, or to apply to men 
for persecution, or to go outside the door to look for 
black clouds. The real wisdom is, when affliction comes 
unsought, then to take care that patience has her perfect 
work. 

Near akin to these volunteers is a class who, instead of 
casting their burdens on God, carry even more than their 
own share. Nature, as if to deride them, has created the 
carrier-shell, which attaches to its surface stones, coral, 
and fragments of other shells. 

" It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his 
youth." Hosius, Bishop of Corduba, in Spain, was 
banished when near a hundred years old. Affliction 
made her first visit to Archbishop Usher in the evening 
of life. Archbishop Tillotson had to face a storm of 
obloquy for the first time at more than sixty years of age. 
It was too much for him ; his spirits declined, and his 
health gave way. 

Perhaps it may not be altogether to the credit of 
humanity, yet it is true in fact, that we are strengthened 
in bearing our trials by seeing that we are not alone in 
affliction, and by knowing that " the same afflictions are 
being accomplished in our brethren that are in the world." 
This is one advantage of going occasionally to the house 
of mourning, that we see others suffering similar or worse 



ADVERSITY. 355 

things,. and so learn that there is nothing singular in our 
lot, and that we have no ground of complaint as being 
extraordinary sufferers. 

We are dazzled by the brilliancy of nobility and 
royalty, and therefore overlook the reality. Abdalrah- 
man was one of the most magnificent of the caliphs. 
His experience was thus described in an authentic 
memorial found in his closet after death. " I have now 
reigned above fifty years in victory or peace ; beloved by 
my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by 
my allies. Riches and honours, power and pleasure, 
have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing 
appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this 
situation I have diligently numbered the days of pure 
and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot : 
they amount to fourteen : — O man, place not thy con- 
fidence in this present world ! " * As a pendant to this 
experience may be mentioned the entry of the Comte 
D'Artois into Paris, when he said, " This is the first 
day of happiness I have experienced for twenty-five 
years." 

Often those in highest positions have bitterest trials. 
That heartfelt apostrophe would never have been wrung 
from David had not Absalom's unfilial conduct been 
stimulated by a desire for his father's crown. No other 
position could have been so exposed to insult as when 
Lady Castlemain, the mistress, was presented at court to 
Catharine, the queen of Charles II. Wealthy burghers 
and nobles were ruined by the wars in the Netherlands ; 

* Gibbon's "History," c. lii. 



350 DULCE DOMUM. 

they became changed into paupers and mendicants, and 
went about begging in the dusk. The Princess Henrietta, 
daughter of Charles I., lived in exile with her mother in 
Paris, and was so reduced that she was obliged to lie in 
bed for want of a fire to warm her. History abounds 
with the vicissitudes and sufferings of noble and royal 
personages ; they have been insulted, degraded, im- 
prisoned, tortured, beheaded. They have endured cala- 
mities greater than tears,* and therefore the student of 
history finds any feelings of envy easily neutralised by 
feelings of compassion.f 

A man may be convinced of the benefits of affliction 
and yet not be able to rejoice in it ; he may not be able 
to reach the heroic altitude of St. Paul and to glory in 
tribulations and infirmities. It is indeed difficult to 
praise God in affliction. Trial is a species of night, 
and the birds that sing in the night are few. But 
if praise is too high a standard, certainly prayer is 
within the capacity of all, and it is a divinely appointed 
outlet for painful emotions. Although it may be con- 
temned by the self-sufficient, yet experience proves it to 
be one of the best safety-valves for discontent. 

He who has himself experienced suffering or studied 
the trials of others, and understands the philosophy of 
vicissitude, will be enabled to regard adversity as a thing 
possible and to anticipate and prepare against it. It 
will not come upon him with the shock of something 
strange and unexpected. This anticipation, if moderate, 



* jxii^o q Kara ddicpva. — Thucyd., vii. 75, 
f "O passi graviora." — iEn., i. 199. 



ADVERSITY. ' 357 

is wise ; but if in excess, it would foster a timorous spirit, 
exaggerating dangers and making one less capable of 
coping with them ; measuring * perils by one's own 
fears. 

Oftentimes little things are more trying and vexatious 
than great ones. An African traveller found the mos- 
quitoes more harassing than the crocodiles ; which is both 
a fact and an allegory. How much people complain 
and murmur about the weather, finding it too cold or too 
hot, too dry or too wet. Even philosophers err here, 
and do not come up to the simple and sublime wisdom 
of the shepherd of Salisbury Plain : " The weather pleases 
me because it pleases God" How much again are people 
annoyed about personal defects, brooding over them till 
life itself is soured ! How much wiser was the cheerful 
patience of Agesilaus ! He was lame of one leg ; but he 
bore it pleasantly, and was the first to rally himself upon 
it, which always made it the less regarded. 

To have an implicit confidence in God that he does 
all wisely and well — that we belong to him, and that he 
will take care of us t — that he is eminently impartial in 
his judgment, though it may be wisely otherwise in his 
distribution, that affliction is no more unkind than ampu- 
tation ; these convictions make adversity first tolerable 
and then pleasant. 

Patience is a submission to God's will ; it coincides 
with that will, and waits for God's good time, and would 



* " Suo quisque metu pericula metiri." — Sal. Catil., 31. 
+ to Genvg tlvai r)fiwv rovg i7ri^ii\ovfikvovQ koli tf/xag tovq avOpco- 
ttovq 'iv tCjv KTrjfidrujv toiq Otolg tlvai. — Plato, Phaedon, vi. 



358 DULCE DO MUM. 

not move forward the hands on the great clock of 
existence, even if it had the power. It was so with that 
remarkable man Blanco White. In his last illness he 
thus addressed himself to God : " / cry to thee, knowing 
I cannot alter thy ways. I cannot if I would — and I 
would not if I could. If a word could remove these suffer- 
ings I would not utter it."* 

* "Blanco White's Life," iii. 303. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

SUNDAYS. 

It would be out of place to discuss here the obligation 
of the Lord's day. We find it existing as a fact, just as 
we find government or any other social institution exist- 
ing ; and its advantages being self-evident it is the part 
of wisdom to accept the fact and to make the most of it. 
The question will therefore be treated here in a practical 
way. Even if Sunday were not a divine institution, yet 
a man would be most wise to devote one portion of it to 
physical and intellectual rest, and another to moral and 
spiritual improvement. The observance of this day is 
accompanied with priceless blessings, " which no man 
knoweth but he who receiveth them." Some have called 
it a waste day ; but certainly they were not hard-working, 
laborious men, nor were they enlightened and philan- 
thropic men. The great statesman and the enlightened 
physician perceive what the labourer and artizan feel — 
the recuperative virtue of the Christian Sabbath; and a 
man must be ignorant and reckless who would part with 
this priceless diamond for any small consideration. In 
the great French Revolution Sunday was abolished, and 
the period of rest was fixed at every tenth day, but the 



360 DULCE DOMUM. 

labouring population were never able to establish the 
exemption from work on the tenth day, which the con- 
vention had prescribed. 

Though Sunday is so beautiful in design and so 
beneficial in effect, it is well known there are many 
who dislike it ; a, dislike which is as unnatural as an 
antipathy to roses, which characterised a certain French 
queen. But the dislike which others have felt towards the 
Sunday may be explained by its injudicious advocacy 
and its compulsory observance. For instance, some 
controversialists have alleged that the traces of a seventh 
day are universal, whereas a traveller so accurate and 
intelligent as Sir Rutherford Alcock states, "all over 
Asia this division into weeks is, I believe, utterly unknown 
to this day, as it is in Japan." * 

It is generally supposed that Sabbatarianism originated 
with the Puritans in England, and with the Presbyterians 
in Scotland ; but this was not the case : the Judaic 
observance of the Sunday was revived by the Roman 
Catholic Church,! and severe enactments were made for 
its rigid observance. If a lawyer pleaded a cause on 
Sunday, he was deprived of the privilege of pleading. 
If a monk broke the Sunday, he was shut out for six 
months from the society of his brethren. For the same 
offence, a rustic or a slave was beaten severely with rods. 

* Sir R. Alcock's "Tycoon," i. 158. 

f In England, in the time of King John, Eustace, abbot of 
Flay, preached the Judaical observance of the Sunday, and professed 
to confirm his doctrine by a letter, purporting to be from our 
Saviour, and found at Golgotha. — Dr. J. A. Hessey's " Bampton 
Lectures," p. 120. A few other facts in this chapter are derived 
from the same source. 



SUNDA VS. 36.1 

To yoke a pair of oxen to a cart and walk by the side of 
it on the Lord's day involved the loss of the right ox. 
In opposition to this, the Reformers treated the Sabbath 
as a Christian festival. John Knox received distin- 
guished company to supper on Sunday. Calvin some- 
times played at bowls on Sunday. Luther fought against 
the superstitious observance. He said, " If anywhere, 
the day is made holy for the mere day's sake ; if any- 
where anyone sets up its observance on a Jewish founda- 
tion, then I order you to work on it, to ride on it, to 
dance on it, to feast on it, to do anything that shall 
remove this encroachment on Christian liberty." 

The Christian Sabbath arose and was observed without 
any prescribed forms. It was quite uncircumstantial, 
and therefore was eminently adapted for every people 
and <every climate. This has been well remarked by 
Richard . Cecil, who notices : " Its observance was 
nowhere positively enjoined by Christ, because Chris- 
tianity was to be practicable, and was to go to all nations : 
and it comes thither stripped of its precise and curious cir- 
cumstances. 'I was in the Spirit on the Zord's day ' seems 
to be the soul of the Christian Sabbath." 

In Scotland, the observance of the Sabbath was en- 
forced with more than Jewish rigour. At Aberdeen it 
was thought expedient that a baillie and two others 
should pass through the town every Sabbath day and 
note such as they found absent from sermons, either in 
the forenoon or afternoon ; and for this purpose that 
they should pass and search such houses as they think 
meet; and especially, during the summer season, they 
attend, or cause some one to attend, and take down the 



362 DULCE DO MUM. 

names of the excursionists, who embark on the ferry- 
boat. The absentee from his parish church was fined 
six shillings and eightpence on each occasion for the 
use of the poor. Among the offenders we find a shoe- 
maker and a butcher, and it is easy to conceive the 
vindictive feelings which the penalty excited.* The 
intense hatred of some to the church becomes intelligible, 
when we study facts like these. Even in our day, a 
sullen dislike pervades masses of the people. May it 
not be owing in some measure to the pacts and pledges 
which the Church has exacted from men who could not 
help themselves ? 

It is better to attract three free men to church from 
affection and reason than three thousand slaves by 
spiritual terrorism. How much is he to be envied, who 
comes to church for the love of it ; and how much'is he 
to be pitied, who comes to church for the dread of it ! 
Nor should we discourage people from coming to God's 
house, even if they come only from curiosity. A man 
often finds something better than he seeks : Belzoni, 
searching for ancient ruins, discovered emerald mines. 

An unnatural instance has been found in the records 
of the Presbytery of Strathbogie, June 6th, 1658 : — " The 
said day, Alexander Cairnie, in Tilliochie, was delaitit 
for brak of Sabbath, in bearing ane sheep upon his back 
from the pasture to his own house. The said Alexander 
compeirit and declarit that it was of necessitie for saving 
of the beast's lyfe in tyme of storme. Was rebukit for 
the same, and admonished not to do the lyke." 

* Publications of the Spalding Club. 



SUNDA YS. 363 

The Sabbatic spirit was transplanted from England to 
America. To break the Sabbath presumptuously, whether 
by work or play, was a capital offence, and, among other 
regulations, were the following : — 

" No one shall run on the Sabbath day, or walk in his 
garden, or elsewhere except reverently to and from 
meeting." 

" No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep 
house, cut hair, or shave on the Sabbath day." 

These rules, like many laws, were framed in great 
ignorance of human nature. Reading is irksome to 
many, devotion and meditation still more so. The 
natural result would be that multitudes would subside 
into idleness, and so give an erroneous impression of the 
sacred day.* Chains were fastened up in the streets to 
prevent people from riding or driving in Philadelphia on 
a Sunday.! In some parts of the United States it was 
counted a sin for a mother to kiss her child on the 
Lord's day. Christ had emancipated men from slavish 
observances, but the church laid burdens on the free. 
What a struggle it must have been for a religious man 
thus educated to break the " iron shell " of ecclesiasticism ! 
We can sympathize with such an one in his exclamation : 
" It is a blessed day, when one has got over the super- 
stition of it." 

It is amazing how the judgment of St. Paul on this 



* " cui septima quseque fuit lux 

Ignava." — juv., xiv. 105. 

f Mrs. Trollope's "Domestic Manners of the Americans/' 
pp. 183, 221. 



364 DULCE DO MUM. 

question was either overlooked or explained away : ' : One 
man esteemeth one day above another : another esteemeth 
every day alike. Let every man be fully persuaded in his 
ow?i mind." This was a wise and a liberal view ; and 
the Judaic observance, whether revived by Romanist or 
Presbyterian, was a retrogression. 

Some have thought that it was possible to attain such 
a height of spirituality as to be independent of the Sab- 
bath altogether; but it is to be feared that the non- 
observance of the Lord's day would be injurious to the 
most spiritually minded : and, indeed, there would be a 
danger lest their religion should entirely evaporate. 

Nowhere is preparation more requisite than before the 
Sunday.* Arrears will be cleared off, arrangements will 
be made in order to leave the Lord's day free and unen- 
cumbered, and these previous adjustments will test our 
appreciation of the day. You can measure the joy of 
Sunday by the preparation of Saturday ; and then on the 
sacred day, when the human specially act in the same 
direction as the heavenly powers, there will be spring- 
tides of devout feeling. 

A chief part of the sacred day ought to be given to 
public worship. The natural feeling of a devout mind 
finds expression in the consecrated words : " How 
amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts." Not 
only are they amiable, but noble and divine. A multi- 
tude of devout worshippers is one of the grandest spec- 



* A Christian statesman writes in his diary : — " 1 have found evil 
from not trying to improve Saturday evenings, and to be earlier on 
Sunday mornings for God.'''' 



SUNDA VS. 365 

tacles on earth. Suppose God to pause for a moment 
from his delectable employment, and to look down from 
the oriels of heaven upon a great congregation worship- 
ping him with the heart and with the understanding also. 
I will be bold to say that such a spectacle causes a thrill 
of joy in the heavenly places. 

Some of the intervals of public worship should be 
filled up with private devotion. Silent prayer and reflec- 
tion are exercises eminently profitable. Ordinarily a 
man tries to flee from himself, but here he comes to 
himself, and with mysterious awe contemplates himself. 
At such times, if we meditate much on heavenly things, 
they will inflame us with ardent desires for advancement. 
The Greeks had an admirable saying in regard to medita- 
tion : " Whatsoever things you think on frequently, such will 
your mi?id become." He who is always brooding over 
bodily pleasures, becomes sensual ; he who is always 
studying, becomes intellectual ; and he who is always 
meditating on spiritual things, becomes spiritual. Have 
you never noticed how the insect takes the colour of the 
tree on which it feeds ? If the tree is green, the insect is 
green ; if the tree is red, the insect is red ; and if the 
tree is yellow, the insect is yellow too. He who medi- 
tates gets up on the eminences of thought and enjoys a 
clearer vision, for fogs are more common in valleys than 
on hills. Besides, when one lives in the higher region of 
devotion, he becomes superior to the din and bustle of 
the world. On the top of a high mountain the report of 
a pistol is scarcely audible. 

This meditation will be so much the more valuable at 
home if the church is unedifying : if the minister, involved 



3W> DULCE DO MUM. 

in some unhappy consciousness, rings out the glad tidings 
of the Gospel with the dull, dead sound of a muffled bell. 
In such a case the Christian can be to a certain extent 
independent of public ministrations ; at least of those 
accessories, which render them generally attractive, music, 
architecture, eloquence. And here is the place to say 
that a simple may be as profitable as an ornate service. 
As much water is brought by a modern pipe as by an 
ancient, gigantic and costly aqueduct. 

On Sunday our reading should either be religious or 
have a religious tone. A man desecrates Sunday when 
he thinks, talks, and reads as on other days. The Bible 
is the best of books for reading on the holy day, and a 
man withholds good things from himself when he is con- 
stantly preferring other books. Who would dig in a stan- 
nary, when he might dig in a gold mine ? Who would 
be satisfied with a little lead, when he might have a lump 
of gold. 

It is on this principle that secular lectures are objec- 
tionable on the Lord's day ; and besides, any one who has 
the discernment to perceive that Sunday is a providential 
fact, and an obvious institution for man's highest develop- 
ment, will also perceive that secular teachings do not 
come up to this standard, and that therefore the Sunday 
is a gift not provided for such purposes.* 

Next to the Scriptures pious and devout books, like 
Thomas a Kempis, or Scougal, are real helps. They 
draw forth devotional feelings, and stir us up mightily. 
How much more spiritual and heavenly minded, and, I 

* Mxi., iv. 647 : "Non hos quaesitum in usus." 



SUNDA YS. 367 

will add, wiser y many would have been if they had given 
half the time to some religious book which they have 
bestowed on novels, — if they had loved Leighton and 
Bunyan as much as Bulwer and Dickens. 

Scripture, and those books which are inspired by 
Scripture, have this pre-eminent advantage that they give 
us light; and the more we have of this the more fruitful 
shall we be in all good works. See how the instinct of 
fruit-trees teaches us a lesson, for they invariably turn 
their leaves and branches towards the light. In fact, the 
highest and lowest forms of life stand in need of light. 
The human mind must bend to the same law as a humble 
plant ; and it, no less than celery, is blanched by being 
kept in darkness. 

Private devotion is the index of the Christian life ; and 
if our prayers are anticipated with irksomeness, engaged 
in with reluctance, gone through with impatience, and 
terminated with delight, there can be but little vitality 
in our religion. No Christian should be ignorant of the 
heavenly art of turning Scripture into prayers. Then 
prayer is an echo reflecting back to God the words that 
come from God. 

To encourage hearty prayer God has made known that 
his response shall be instantaneous : and swift as the 
electric flash, " Before they call, I will answer." All real 
Christians know by experience that this is so : blessings 
come while we are yet praying. The camel is loaded 
while kneeling. Speaking of the electric flash reminds 
us how easily our intercourse with God may be inter- 
rupted ; how soon the telegraphic wire of communication 
may be cut. 



368 DULCE DO MUM. 

However important private devotion may be, yet it 
should never supersede public worship, for then were it 
in defiance of the Scriptural exhortation, " Not forsaking 
the assembling of ourselves together." One of the first 
requisites for discharging this duty well is punctuality : 
to be there at the beginning. Who is the most punctual 
attendant? 'Tis God; and we should take shame to 
ourselves, if, by our lateness, we should keep him 
waiting. 

There is an obvious danger of Sunday becoming a dull 
day. Therefore family reunions should be encouraged 
and cheerful conversation engaged in, but always with a 
subdued interest. The reading should not only be re- 
ligious, but interesting as well ; and there should be 
maps, and puzzles, and pictures, for the little ones. 
Sacred music and singing should be cultivated, if only 
with a view to enlivening the day of rest. " This is the 
day which the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and 
be glad in it." * Try to make it bright and happy; 
only beware of an amalgamated Sunday, part religious 
and part secular, part to the church and part to the 
theatre ; for then the holy day becomes a holiday. 

The great mistake of the Westminster Confession lay 
in forgetting that man had a compound nature, and in 
ordering that all his thoughts should be taken up the 
whole time on Sunday in public and private exercises of 
worship, and in the duties of necessity and mercy. There 
was here no provision made for recreation of mind or 
body. Besides, the same things are not the same to all 



* Ps. cxviii. 24. 



SUNDA VS. 369 

men. One man may enjoy two hours' devotion, while 
another may be painfully fatigued ; just as in climbing a 
mountain, the athletic is thoroughly delighted, while the 
invalid is suffering dreadfully. 

Most unsatisfactory is the conduct of those who give 
support without sympathy. Some men who support the 
church have no more interest in its welfare than the stone 
figures which support the entablature. Of this kind was 
the Lord Chancellor Eldon. On one occasion he was 
extolled as " a pillar of the church." " No," retorted 
another, " he may be one of its buttresses, but certainly 
not one of its pillars, for he is never seen inside its 
walls." * 

It might not be out of place here to caution against a 
mere profession. That will not save a man. Where 
then will he take refuge in the last day ? In his profes- 
sion? Why, that will be a tree in a thunderstorm, — a 
most dangerous refuge, — giving death where one had 
hoped for safety. 

The church should glow with the warmth of a radiant 
love and sympathy. People are attracted in large num- 
bers to such a church; for, after all, men and birds 
migrate to a warm climate, and withdraw from coldness, 
and tempest, and winter. Yea, men will go to a vulgar 



* Although Dr. Johnson, when dying, had sent him a message 
to request that he would attend public worship every Sunday, he 
never was present at church in London from one year's end to the 
other. Pleading in mitigation before Lord Ellenborough that he 
attended public worship in the country, he received this rebuke, — 
"As if there were no God in town." — Campbell's "Lives of the 
Chancellors," x. 307. 

6 £ 



370 DULCE DO MUM. . 

chapel for the sake of earnestness, as swallows haunt 
chimneys for the sake of warmth. 

Few people do more harm in a church than the discon- 
tented hearer ; for discontent is rapidly infectious. It 
may be you are a person of superior judgment, and you 
listen to an inferior preacher. Now do not publish his 
inferiority ; for perhaps hundreds see no defects, and are 
contented, and profited by his ministrations. But if you 
try to show your superiority by disparaging the preacher, 
you are weak ; and if you make simple-minded people 
dissatisfied and discontented with their minister, you are 
wicked. Endure the meagre discourse as an exercise of 
patience; and then, going home, enjoy the luxury of 
Taylor or Leighton, of Butler or Barrow. 

Many get little good in God's house, because they 
cultivate (and it is a cultivation that needs but little 
effort) a critical rather than a docile spirit. They will 
rather sit in Gamaliel's chair than at Gamaliel's feet. 

Still, it is not meant to deny that every intelligent lay- 
man should judge of the character and tendency of the 
sermons he hears. The minister is the bee that makes 
your Sunday honey, and woe to you if he extracts it 
from poisonous flowers. That honey should be strongly 
flavoured with Scripture, that it may be divine ; and is it 
not a glory * to be collecting ideas and thoughts that 
shall sweeten life, and make men more humane, kindly, 
tolerant, and brotherly. Besides the studious preparation, 
there should be warmth in the delivery; for he who 



* " Tantus amor riorum et generandi gloria mellis." — Virg. 



SUNDAYS. 37 [ 

preaches the Gospel without feeling and affection, gives 
the people frozen honey. 

How few ministers have calculated the responsibility, 
and feel the obligation, of making a congregation inte- 
rested and happy in church ! How sad it is to see the 
worshippers go away depressed and mourning, as if they 
had buried hope and joy in the vaults ! 

On the other hand, the laity should not expect too 
much from the clergy. Spiritual teachers may often have 
higher aspirations and nobler theories than they can em- 
body into life. The sermon of the preacher is often 
more beautiful than his practice, just as the plan of the 
architect is more beautiful than his building — and is not 
the reason obvious ? 

The congregation of the political preacher may well 
sigh and murmur that they got all that in the newspapers 
on week-days. " Surely," wrote Burke,* " the church is 
a place where one day's truce ought to be allowed to the 
dissensions and animosities of mankind." 

It is well for us to bear in mind that forms of prayer 
are useful, but they tend to formality. The spirit may be 
evaporating, while a formal habit remains ; and that out- 
ward habit masks the inward decay. So physicians tell 
us that a patient may be wasting away, while a dropsical 
enlargement hides and disguises the decrease of the 
body. 

Those worshippers may be congratulated, who have 
wise forms of public prayer. Sometimes the intellectual 
effort visible in extemporaneous prayer is painful to be- 

* "Reflections on the Revolution in France." 



372 DULCE DOMUM. 

hold. Some salute the Deity with epigrams, just as the 
Burmese salute their idol with crackers; the worship- 
pers, in both cases, serene and unconscious of any incon- 
gruity. At the same time, a liturgy which is stereotyped 
and final is a disadvantage. May it not be owing to this 
condition that there are so few good prayers in English 
— so few good State prayers even ? How much better it 
has fared with hymns, which have been received into the 
Church from all quarters. The hymnology of England 
is full of religion and poetry, of pathos and sublimity. 

Formality is akin to routine. You have noticed the 
horse in the ring — it gallops round and round with all 
its might. It has run well ; and now the noble animal 
halts, covered with dust and sweat, and its delicate veins 
are distended, and its mouth is covered with foam. It 
has run many miles, and yet it is not one step further 
advanced than when it first began ; it has made no pro- 
gress — and why ? Because it has run in a circle, not in a 
straight line. This is often the way of Christian routine. 

There is a class of hearers who may be styled occa- 
sional. Now, irregular attendance at church is some- 
times a symptom of fluctuating health, and sometimes a 
symptom of fluctuating piety. Too many now prefer to 
spend their summer Sundays in excursions and amuse- 
ments, and then, in the winter, come to roost comfortably 
in God's house. Others there are who are practical 
heathens in a Christian land, and pay no heed to the 
sound of the church-going bell. Yet these bells, full of 
sweetness and solemnity, are calling upon all men. What 
do they say to the invalid ? You cannot come to God's 
house, but He can come to yours. What do they say to 



SUNDA VS. 373 

the profligate ? Where art thou, in the tents of wicked- 
ness ? What do they say to the Christian ? " Come up 
to the house of the Lord ; " and the Christian's heart beats 
responsively, " / was glad when they said unto me, Let us 
go into the house of the Lord." 

Sundays are as milestones to mark progress ; and 
whoso is wise will understand that not all exertion is 
progress. A man may read and pray and meditate, and 
yet not advance ; he may be ever learning, and never 
able to come to the knowledge of the truth. In his 
movements there is no earnest purpose to advance. He 
imitates the little bird in its cage. Waking up with the 
first gleams of the morning sun, it begins its little flight, 
leaping from perch to perch, now on one side, now on 
another. If, at night, we could put together all its 
various leaps and evolutions, we should find that it had 
fled many miles — that the same exertion would have 
carried it over the sea to foreign lands ; and yet, here it 
is, in its cage — it has made no progress. And why? 
Because it is confined by iron bars. 

It is melancholy to see the sapling stunted — never in- 
creasing in bulk or height ; it is melancholy to see the 
child dwarfed, making no increase in stature ; but it is 
far more melancholy to see a Christian making no pro- 
gress or growth in grace. Yet, sad as the sight is, it is 
often, doubtless, presented to the observant eyes of 
heaven. If we might suppose that God had deputed a 
guardian angel to watch over the condition and advance- 
ment of each Christian, and to register his movements, 
his advances and his backslidings, then how often must 
that angel, at the end of the day, or the week, or the 



374 DULCE DO MUM. 

month, or the year, write against us the sad words, No 
progress. A stationary Christian apologises for his want 
of progress by saying : " There are ups and downs in my 
spiritual life ; my soul is like a wheel, sometimes going 
up, and sometimes going down — but, thank God, I do 
not despair." To this it may be answered : " You say, 
truly, that the wheel sometimes goes up and sometimes 
goes down, but you forget that it goes forwards at the 
same time." And so it should be with us. Amidst all 
our ecstasies, amidst all our depressions, in all our joys, 
and in all our sorrows, in all our hopes, and in all our 
fears, if our soul sometimes rises and sometimes falls, 
yet it should go forward at the same time. 

The spirit of devotion can be easily strangled by some 
dominant passion, by covetousness, for instance. The 
covetous man will be thinking of his money even at his 
prayers, as if he used his cashbox for a hassock. But, 
whatever preoccupies the mind utterly destroys the efficacy 
of our devotions, for it makes them heartless, and heart- 
less prayers resemble meteoric stones, which, though 
rising to a certain height, are all showered down again. 

Men are elevated by feeding on God's Word. If the 
larva of the working bee is capable of becoming a queen, 
when treated to a richer kind of food, so mortal men 
become kings and priests unto God — yea, shall be as the 
angels. And the caterpillar, which now only crawls, will 
soon be capable of rapid and extensive flight, symbolizing 
to us the elevating tendency of devotion, which enables 
grovelling man to soar. 

Owing to the great facilities for travelling on Sunday, 
and the large amount of refreshments required, there is 



SUN DA VS. 375 

great danger that multitudes will be deprived of their day 
of rest. Railway servants, barmaids, omnibus drivers 
and conductors have to work on that day, ministering to 
the pleasure of others. One of the most beneficent acts 
of the Legislature would be to protect the Sabbath for the 
working man, and to limit as far as possible Sunday 
labour. The excursionist is the master, and he, in effect, 
says to bakers, stokers, drivers, barmaids, greengrocers, 
and butchers, "Work on Sunday, or starve."* Although 
the English Sunday is not what it ought to be, yet there 
is great cause for thankfulness when we compare it with 
Continental usage. Every one who has been to Paris 
remembers how many shops are open on Sunday. In 
Spain and Portugal the bull-fight is the consolation of 
the multitude. In Geneva plays are freely permitted in 
the theatres on Sunday. In Sweden bills are presented, and 
counting-houses open, and business transacted as usual. 

A fine testimony is borne by the Abbe Mullois to the 
English Sabbath : — " The business transactions of the 
English are enormous, yet they do no work on the Lord's 
day. Look at the banks of the Thames. There are 
wharves and dockyards extending leagues in length, and 
on week-days they are covered with a mass of workmen. 
The Lord's day arrives. All these workmen rest, and not 
a blow of the axe is given." 

If you could take the spring out of the year, and if you 
could take youth out of life, you would not do a greater 
injury to the human race than if you took Sunday out of 
the week. 

* " The People's Day," by William Arthur, M.A. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

AMUSEMENTS. 

The word recreation, which is often used for amusement, 
is very suggestive, indicating that a man when spent and 
exhausted with work is, as it were, revived, renewed, and 
re-created by means of pleasant entertainment. That 
same word suggests the philosophy of amusements ; for 
it bears witness, as far as a word can, that we are to 
indulge amusement in order to be fresh for work again, 
and not that we are to work in order to amuse ourselves. 

Rest from labour does not imply listless indolence, 
but rather repose with pleasant and easy occupation. 
Such a rest is by no means fruitless. Often in a holiday, 
when not working, many useful reflections about one's 
pursuits come unsought. Out of the current one can 
judge better how to act in the current. It would be a 
mistake on many accounts to imagine that these intervals 
are lost time. Every man needs rest and leisure ; and 
these intermissions do not weaken, but rather strengthen 
his character ; like the blank spaces of an archway, 
which are stronger than solid blocks. 

There are few traces of amusement in Scripture. 
There are more, yet not very many, in classical literature. 



AMUSEMENTS, 377 

The reason may be, partly, that there were really fewer 
and less varied amusements ; partly, because ancient 
history described battles and politics, but did not describe 
social life. In the Odyssey we find tumblers performing 
feats for the amusement of the company after dinner ; 
there was the song and the dance, and the bard was 
almost always present at great entertainments. We 
meet with many allusions to games and athletic contests, 
and the ferocious amusements of the arena, in which 
gladiators contended to the death. 

The discoveries of science and the inventions of 
machinery abridge the working hours, and give more 
leisure to mankind ; but, at the same time, we work more 
intensely in these days. There is therefore both more 
time for amusement and more need for it. We live 
rapidly, and we cannot do without relaxation : it is the 
grease that lessens the friction of life. Thus it becomes 
a question of great personal and domestic interest, how 
best to employ our leisure. " Pleasure is a delicate 
plant, and cannot be cultivated without much study and 
practice. Any excess of it is followed by a reaction of 
disgust, and by a diminution in the power of entertaining 
it." * 

Not all amusement is recreation, for some amusements 
excite and inflame the mind and exhaust its powers. 
This may be safely said of casinos, music halls, and such 
places, where thousands of young men spend their 
evenings far into the night in feverish excitement, retire 
to sleep late, rise unrefreshed, and hurry off to business 

* " Ecce Homo," p, H2„ 



378 DULCE DO MUM. 

seedy and jaded, so that any one beholding them might 
safely say that calm and gentle amusements are best. 

Not only are they unrefreshing, but they are degrading 
when they take a close hold of their votaries. Amuse- 
ment then becomes the great pursuit of life, and busi- 
ness becomes mere by-work. Then it is that the pursuit 
colours all the life and affects all the sentiments and 
character,* and suppresses all aspirations after greatness 
and heroism. 

Among the lower classes, the most common amuse- 
ment is drinking. This is their stimulus, and its effects 
are deplorable. We are so familiarised with the spectacle 
that we cannot realise the awful degradation of a 
drunkard. " If the phenomenon were unique, it would 
inspire every one with sheer horror." f We cannot stop 
this national vice by acts of parliament ; not by compul- 
sion, very rarely by moral suasion. Let the compul- 
sion proceed from the man himself; when self-control is 
ruptured, let a man take the pledge and wear a moral 
truss. At the same time our legislators can help him by 
providing parks for recreation, by providing better homes, 
by planting trees and flowers, and encouraging innocent 
amusements in every way. It is a secret worth knowing 
how much joy we can extract from innocent little things : 
we can get more from a flower than from ill-gotten gold ; 
yea, the sources are innumerable — a child, a kitten, a 
picture, a song, an anecdote, a riddle, a pun, a story, 



* 'O7roi' arret yap av ra emrTjotifxara rtbv avOpunruv y, roiovrov 
av ayicr) ical to (ppovrjfia ex^iv. — Demos. Olyn., iii. 37. 

f Dr. Thomson, Archbishop of York, Times, February 18, 1869. 



AMUSEMENTS. 379 

and a million other things besides.* Contrast with these 
simple, innocent pleasures, the fierce excitement attend- 
ing games of chance. The gamesters at Almack's used 
to wear masks to conceal their emotions when they 
played. Well would it be for young men to follow the 
resolution of Pitt ; he felt the increasing fascination of 
gambling and suddenly abandoned it for ever. 

Much also depends upon the degree in which we 
indulge amusement, for, as it has been well said, " Sight- 
seeing, taken in drops, is a cordial ; in draughts, a poison." 
Or as wine taken in moderation, cheers ; in excess, 
intoxicates. Or a moderate fire warms ; in excess, con- 
sumes : so amusement in moderation refreshes • in excess, 
it exhausts. 

It has this disadvantage besides. When it is excessive 
it is absorbing, and renders one deaf to the call of any 
urgent business that may arise. Whereas all our amuse- 
ments should be open to interruption and postponed in 
any emergency. The case of Archias has become pro- 
verbial. A messenger being admitted to him delivered a 
letter, containing an account of a conspiracy, and said : 
" The person who sent this desired that it might be read 
immediately, for it cojttains business of great importance." 
But Archias, now almost intoxicated, said smiling, 
" Business to-morrow '." Then he put it under the cushion 
of his couch, and resumed conversation with his friend. 
In a little while the conspirators rushed into the room 
and slew this to-morrow man. 

* " Videt ridetque Philippus, 
Et, sibi dum requiem, dum risus undique quasrit." 

Hor. Ep., i. 7. 79. 



380 DULCE DOMUM. 

Nor should amusement take place at unsuitable times ; 
for then a day's pleasure costs many a life. None can 
tell the mischief produced, for instance, by a school-treat 
or other fete on a rainy day. Germs of rheumatism and 
consumption are then sown, which crop up in after-years, 
and which either disable the victims or send them to a 
premature grave. 

No one can transgress the natural laws with impunity. 
When people, whether old or young, turn night into day, 
the headache, depression, and other minor penalties show 
clearly that the amusement has failed to refresh and 
recreate. It ceases to be relaxation, for relaxation is a 
medicine for that uneasiness which arises from labour ; * 
but that amusement which is laborious and toilsome is 
no relief from work. 

There should not be too great an expenditure of time 
upon amusements, and they should always be kept in 
their proper place. In the march of life let Duty lead 
the van, and Pleasure take the rear. Sequence and order 
are most important in all things. Not play first and then 
work; but first work and then rest and enjoyment. 

The generality are compelled to take care of money ; but 
of time they are most lavish. They have no adequate 
sense of its value, and the great revenue to be derived 
from its wise investment. Even a scholar, who ought to 
be covetous of time, often gives far too much to amuse- 
ment. Now all excess is waste, and in that wasted time 
he might have read an oration of Demosthenes, or a 



* Tr)g yap Sid tu>v irovwv XvTrrjg iaTpeia rig lori. — Arist. Pol., 
viii. 5. 



AMUSEMENTS. 381 

tragedy of Sophocles, or an epistle of ,St. Paul : he might 
have calculated the distance of some heavenly bodies ; 
he might have gained a biographical acquaintance with 
Socrates or Luther, or by the help of imagination and 
geography have travelled over China or Peru. 

It is another condition of right amusement that too 
much money should not be spent upon it. What is at 
the very time owing to creditors, or needed for the 
family, or due to charity, ought not to be misappropriated 
to personal gratification. If it is, there will ever and 
anon rise a bitter taste in the cup. * Sometimes the 
money that is given in charity is expended on amuse- 
ment. A receiver of the money for admission at the 
play-houses, said, they always knew when the Maundy 
money was distributed by the new silver, fresh from the 
Mint, which was paid in to them at the theatre.! 

All amusements that are undue, unsuitable, and exces- 
sive, are haunted ; and the ghost of a neglected duty or 
of an unfairly acquired pleasure hovers around the votary. 
It has been already suggested that calm and gentle 
amusements are the best ; music, reading, games, and 
conversation are happily within the reach of most men. 

Reading aloud, if the passages are well chosen and 
well pronounced, is quite a festive exercise. There are 
so many noble passages both in our prose and poetry 
full of delight and instruction. 

Dancing is objected to by some, but probably owing 
to prejudice. It was not only sanctioned by Scripture, 



* "Surgit amari aliquid." — Lucret., iv. 1134. 
f " Wilberforce's Life," iii. 25. 



382 DULCE DOMUM. 

but seems thoroughly natural. The little children in the 
street seem instinctively to dance to the tunes of the 
barrel-organ. Sainte Aldegonde, a man of great religious 
feeling, and a staunch Protestant and patriot as well, 
composed a treatise on dancing, showing the value of 
that amusement as an agent of civilisation, and as a 
counteractor of grosser pleasures.* 

The theatre is still more objected to ; but there can be 
no doubt that if it were not for its associations, it would 
be a grand intellectual entertainment. It is an imitation 
of human character, just as painting and sculpture are 
imitations of the human form, or of natural scenery. 

The theatres in Paris were never fuller than during the 
Reign of Terror. This would be an odious fact if it 
were not for the explanation suggested that the people 
rushed to the drama at night as a relief to the bloody 
excesses of the day. 

In England the feeling against theatres is unmistake- 
able, and in the case of clergymen their attendance 
would greatly detract from their influence. In the year 
1784, when the great actress Mrs. Siddons first appeared 
in Edinburgh, during the sitting of the General Assembly, 
that court was obliged to fix all its important business for 
the alternate days when she did not act, as all the 
younger members, clergy as well as laity, took their 
stations in the theatre on those days by three in the 
afternoon, i 



* Motley's "United Netherlands," i. 147. 

f " Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character," by Dean 
Ramsay, p. 39. 



AMUSEMENTS. 383 

" I feel quite assured," says Dean Ramsay, " that no 
clergyman could expect to retain the respect of his people, 
or of the public, of whom it was known that he frequently 
or habitually attended theatrical representations. It is 
so understood. I had opportunities of conversing with 
the late Mr. Murray, of the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, 
and with Mr. Charles Kean on the subject. Both 
admitted the fact ; and, certainly, if any men of the pro- 
fession could have removed the feeling from the public 
mind these were the men to have done it." 

In the " Life of Bishop Lonsdale " it is stated that he 
had a great liking for the theatre, but regard for his 
episcopal office prevented him from indulging the taste.* 
It is well for men in such positions to deny themselves 
out of deference to religious and popular feeling ; and 
doubtless a great and happy change has come over 
bishops and clergy since the time when an archbishop 
was rebuked by his king for having card-parties on Sun- 
day. 

The world we live in is a theatre, and real life f is full 
of comedy and of tragedy. Generals and statesmen, 
bishops and cardinals, kings and emperors, are the actors 
in the great drama of life, and the golden mediocrity 
have the privilege of being spectators. 

Nothing spoils amusement more than the acidifying 
ingredient of sin. None but bitter honey will come 



* " He used to regret that custom and public opinion prevented 
him from going there." — "Life of Bishop Lonsdale," p. 135. 

f "Tanto majores humana negotia ludi." — Juv. Sat., xiv. 264. 
Lascivious dances, horse-races, and the orgies of enthusiastic priests 
with drums, cymbals, and horns, did not equal the game of life. 



384 DULCE DOMUM. 

from bitter flowers. Some amusements are frivolous and 
contemptible, others brutal and degrading. The only- 
relaxation Spinoza allowed himself was his pipe, a little 
conversation with the people in his house, or watching 
spiders fight, an amusement which would cause the tears 
to roll down his face with laughter. Wild beasts were 
transported to Rome that they might be slain in pomp 
by the Emperor Commodus. Passing through a daily 
course of ferocious amusements, he at length exhibited 
himself in the amphitheatre in presence of an innumerable 
multitude of spectators. 

No doubt the unexperienced and wild clamour for war 
is often caused by a desire for sensational amusement — 
a remnant of the old gladiatorial spirit ; and those 
who go to war should reflect whether they are not sacri- 
ficing themselves for the amusement of on-lookers. Hear 
how heartlessly Tacitus describes a battle between Ger- 
man tribes while the Roman guard looked on : " They 
even gratified us with a spectacle of a battle, in which 
above sixty thousand Germans were slain, not by Roman 
arms, but, what was still grander, by mutual hostilities, 
as it were for our pleasure and entertainment."* 

One of the most degrading amusements of the 
eighteenth century was the exhibition of the insane 
patients in Bedlam. They were chiefly naked and 
chained to the wall, and were exhibited for money like 
wild beasts ; and it is even said that the keepers were 
accustomed to allude to every subject most aggravating 
to the violent patient that his rage might increase the 

* "Germania," c. 33. 



AMUSEMENTS. 385 

amusement of the exhibition, while the propensities of 
the filthy were encouraged, and the voracious idiots were 
kept without food that they might appear as more strik- 
ing objects of wonder to the idle crowd. This shameful 
practice, by which it appears that an income of ^"400 
per annum was derived by the hospital, was abolished 
in 1770. 

Of course such exhibitions could not last long ; they 
would be abolished by the sense of public shame ; but 
then they crop up in another shape. The fashion of 
inhumanity alters; the spirit remains the same. The 
unnatural curiosity which gratified the spectators in the 
seventeenth century, when gentlemen arranged parties of 
pleasure for the purpose of seeing poor women whipped 
at Bridewell, reappears in the nineteenth century, when 
gentlemen and noblemen assemble round the prize ring 
in order to see pugilists bruise and disfigure the features 
of men made in the image of God.* 

The ancient Britons did not eat the hare, the cock, or 
the goose, but they used to breed them for amusement 
and pleasure. t Probably this indicates the existence of 
cock-fighting, and if so, shows that the amusement which 

* When the allied sovereigns and their generals came over to 
England in 1814, Lord Lowther treated them to a series of boxing- 
matches in his drawing-room, which were so highly relished that 
they were repeated a few days afterwards. One of the pugilists, 
called Jackson, became quite a hero, and made enormous sums by 
giving lessons to young noblemen, among whom was Lord Byron. 
In 181 7, the Czar Nicholas of Russia witnessed a prize-fight at 
Coombe Warren. At the close the victor was presented to him, 
with whom he shook hands. This was the last time that royalty 
was present at one of these disgusting spectacles. \ 

f Caesar, Gal. Bell., v. 12. 

C C 



386 DULCE DOMUM. 

seeks pleasure out of others' pain is of barbaric origin. 
In different countries bears were formerly made objects 
of cruel sport by being baited with dogs. Queen Eliza- 
beth did not consider it unbefitting her sex or rank to 
attend these rude entertainments. Some amusements are 
not only cruel, but cowardly ; the battue, for instance, 
where a number of animals are driven forward to a 
point, and where a number of shooters are waiting to 
shoot them. Are such men sportsmen? are they not 
butchers ? 

It is certainly to the credit of our times that the Legis- 
lature has deprived the populace of the degrading exhibi- 
tion of the scaffold. Some, like Gilbert Wakefield, have 
indulged in this vicious taste, and, under the plea of 
some good motive : a plea often justly suspected. " Dur- 
ing my abode at Nottingham," says Wakefield, " I never 
failed to attend at the capital punishments that took 
place there ; courting at all times every circumstance 
which might read me a wholesome lecture on mortality, 
or suggest an additional motive of gratitude to God 
for the comforts of my own condition." George Selwyn 
went still farther ; details of suicide and murder, the in- 
vestigation of a disfigured corpse, or an acquaintance in 
his shroud, afforded him pleasure. He went to see Lord 
Lovat's head cut off, and then to see it sewn on again. 
He went to Paris purposely to see Damien broken on the 
wheel. 

Fouquier Tinville was the implacable enemy of merit 
or virtue ; ever ready to aggravate the sufferings of inno- 
cence. The sole recreation which he allowed himself 
was to behold his victims perish on the scaffold. 



AMUSEMENTS. 387 

Men have degraded their fellows by exhibiting them 
as spectacles ; but what can be said of those, who drink- 
ing for amusement, make themselves laughing-stocks 
for every chance beholder? They put themselves into, 
the very pillory of shame. 

There is always a danger lest the taste for amusement 
should so grow upon a man as to give him a distaste 
for work and devotion. It would be well, if men had 
more of that genuine self-love which whispers : " Do thy- 
self no harm." The practical rule is : Renounce whatever 
injures your piety. This rule will settle questions which 
neither logic nor philosophy can decide. Men may find 
out many reasons for and against novels \ they may argue 
for and against theatres ; they may contend for and against 
Sunday excursions. In the scales of rhetoric the argu- 
ments for and against these things may be nicely 
balanced \ and so in many disputed points. But 
when we bring them to a practical standard, when we 
ask, Does this injure my piety ? the question is soon 
disposed of. Of whom was it ever said, after he had 
returned from a questionable entertainment, " Behold he 
prayeth ?" 

Some condemn all amusements : Bourdaloue nearly 
does this. He cites the Fathers, who were better theo- 
logians than physiologists. Patristic learning must de- 
crease, and scientific knowledge must increase. Nothing 
is more striking in such writers as St. Augustine and 
Tertullian, than their ignorance of the human body and 
its influences. This ignorance is very excusable, but it 
ought to invalidate their authority. 

The want of amusements tends to make men sour and 



388 DULCE DO MUM. 

savage ; and the very prohibition issues in reaction. The 
Puritan antipathy verges on the ludicrous. The pious 
Colonel Hewson marched with his regiment into London, 
and destroyed all the bears, which were kept there for 
the diversion of the citizens : the king's book of sports 
was burned by the hands of the hangman. Whether the 
dislike of sport was entirely natural or affected may be 
questioned. Hume gives the following amusing account 
of the Protector. Cromwell himself in private could 
laugh and jest. Among his old friends he could relax 
himself; and by trifling and amusement, jesting and 
making verses, he feared not exposing himself to their most 
familiar approaches. With others he sometimes pushed 
matters to the length of rustic buffoonery ; and he would 
amuse himself by putting burning coals into the boots 
and hose of the officers who attended him. Before 
the king's trial a meeting was agreed on between the 
chiefs of the republican party and the general officers, 
in order to concert the model of that free government 
which they were to substitute in the room of the monar- 
chical constitution, now totally subverted. After debates 
on this subject, the most important that could fall under 
the discussion of human creatures, Ludlow tells us that 
Cromwell, by way of frolic, threw a cushion at his head, 
and when Ludlow took up another cushion in order to 
return the compliment, the general ran down-stairs, and 
had almost fallen in the hurry. When the high court of 
justice was signing the warrant for the execution of the 
king, a matter, if possible, still more serious, Cromwell, 
taking the pen in his hand, before he subscribed his name 
bedaubed with ink the face of Martin, who sat next him. 



AMUSEMENTS. 389 

And the pen being delivered to Martin, he practised the 
same frolic upon Cromwell. He frequently gave feasts to 
his inferior officers ; and when the meat was set upon 
the table, a signal was given, the soldiers rushed in upon 
them, and with much noise, tumult, and confusion, ran 
away with all the dishes, and disappointed the guests of 
their expected meal. 

That vein of frolic and pleasantry which made a part, 
however inconsistent, of Cromwell's character, was apt 
sometimes to betray him into other inconsistencies, and 
to discover itself even where religion might seem to be a 
little concerned. It is a tradition, that, one day sitting 
at table, the Protector had a bottle of wine brought him, 
of a kind which he valued so highly, that he must needs 
open the bottle himself; but in attempting it, the cork- 
screw dropped from his hand. Immediately his courtiers 
and generals flung themselves on the floor to recover it, 
Cromwell burst out laughing. " Should any fool," said 
he, " put his head at the door, he would fancy, from your 
posture, that you were seeking the Lord ; and you are 
only seeking a corkscrew." 

Doubtless many of the Puritan preachers and writers 
were sincere and consistent ; but even their descendants 
nowadays perceive the narrowness and hardness of 
Puritanism, its inability to avail itself of a very large num- 
ber of those blessings which God has bestowed on men, 
and its stern refusal to recognise as sacred and divine the 
common life of mankind.* 

Since we hanker after what is forbidden and prohibited 

* "Frederick Rivers," p. 263. 



390 DULCE DO MUM. 

it is the wisdom as well as the duty of a parent, even if 
he has little taste for amusements himself, not to deprive 
the children of them, but even to provide them. In fact 
one might almost say, it is his duty to cultivate a taste 
for them. It is even good for stiff people to throw off 
their stiffness. As a lively writer in describing such a 
scene says : " It was very amusing to see grave pompous 
people taking three throws for a rupee, and quite 
delighted if they knocked off a tin snuff-box or a patent 
stay-lace. 1 ' * 

Agesilaus was certainly a most affectionate father. It 
is said, when his children were small he would join in 
their sports ; and a friend happening to find him one 
day riding among them upon a stick, he desired him 
not to mention it till he was a father himself. Little- 
minded men are afraid to compromise their dignity by 
unbending. A really great man can afford to amuse 
himself without fear. Julius Caesar, in those anxious 
days before he crossed the Rubicon, spent the day 
at a public show of gladiators. Pitt used to unbend 
and wanton in exuberant bursts of natural vivacity. " We 
found," says a friend, " one morning the fruits of Pitt's 
earlier rising, in the careful sowing of the garden beds 
with the fragments of a dress hat, in which Ryder had 
over night come down from the opera." f There was 
not a puppet show in London that Lord Stowell had 
not visited. 

Many a one is probably shy and slow in indulging 



* "Up the Country," by the Hon. Emily Eden, i. 242. 
f Wilberforce, "Life," i. 28. 



AMUSEMENTS. 391 

himself in diversions, because they indicate character, 
and no doubt they often do show the man. A captive 
pope darning a stocking shows a weak, but an infinitely 
better character than an exiled republican contemporary 
employing his leisure in teaching a parrot the jargon and 
indecencies of revolutionary language. 

When children complain that home is slow and 
dull, then parents should take alarm and consider whether 
they are making home so happy and attractive as they 
ought to do. The young, as well as the old, need new 
amusements. They hate if they see the old things often.* 
An infant will be delighted for a time making castles of 
cards and palaces of bricks ; but he soon tires of them, 
and requires a succession of novelties. Sweet it is to 
pass through a long life in confident hopes, making the 
spirits swell with bright merriment.! This is good for 
infancy, good for middle age, good for the old and grey- 
headed. It is good for health, good for temper, good for 
work. If the head of the house is so constituted 
that he dislikes mirth, do not let him fall into the narrow 
and selfish mistake of making himself a measure for 
others. It is unwise and illiberal to discourage hilarity, 
or to stamp down laughter, or to forbid amusement, or to 
force all in the household to live a life of gravity and 
method and severity. Although you may like to live by 
rule yourself, yet do not force others to do the same ; do 



oovgi yap rfv rci iraXcua 

ttoWolkiq OtiovTca. — Aristoph. Eccles., 580. 



f iEsch. Prom, v., 535. 



392 DULCE DOMUM. 

not make life too precise, regular, and monotonous. 
Scenery would be no longer picturesque, if rocks and 
hills were hewn out into angles and squares ; and if the 
landscape were cleared of all the merry warblers, the 
lark, and the nightingale, and the mocking-bird, 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



RELATIONS. 



Of our relationships God has made some for us, and we 
have made some for ourselves. 

If one's relations are celebrated, the honour is only 
reflected ; but, if our relations have been ignoble, our 
honour is real and original. The ancients had correct 
ideas of true nobility, although those ideas have been 
again and again choked by prejudice. Horace, address- 
ing Macaenas, says : — " You affirm that it is of no conse- 
quence of what parents any man is born, so that he be a 
man of merit"* 

Generally speaking, the bond of kindred is stronger 
than that of friendship — but, not seldom, it is the re- 
verse, and the friends whom we have chosen are dearer to 
us than the uncles, and aunts, and cousins, who have been 
provided for us. And the reason is not far to seek ; our 
dispositions, and tastes, and education, correspond with 
those of our friends, whereas they may differ very widely 
from those of our relations. 

This very reason points to the danger of relations 

* Hor. Sat., i. 6, 7. 



394 DULCE DOMUM. 

being supplanted by friends, and admonishes us not to 
forget the obligations of blood, although the family rela- 
tions may be of different condition and feeling from our- 
selves. 

Friendship does sometimes really excel relationship ; 
but sometimes flattery supplants consanguinity, and so 
designing parasites can make themselves useful and 
indispensable to a rich friend, and they manage to 
exclude relations by artful insinuations and plausible 
falsehoods.* The natural affection between rich and 
poor relations, especially, is apt to be weak, and needs to 
be riveted with Christian feeling. 

That image, which is so true of a nation, a church, and 
a family, is also true of kindred — " If one member suffers, 
all the members suffer with it ;"f but this will be true 
only of those who are in a healthy state, and full of 
sensibility and affection. In a paralyzed body this 
communication of feeling does not take place ; but we 
who are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, 
and not to please ourselves. 

Parents ought to train up their children to feel an 
interest in their near relations ; for, if children are not 
taught to love a mother's sisters and brothers, they may 
come to think it of no importance, if, in after-life, they 
neglect their own brothers and sisters. The old grand- 

* The flatterers are not alone to blame. Much of the guilt rests 
with the patrons, who are delighted with the blandishments and 
servility of their parasites : " Je prefere aux droits du sang l'affec- 
tion qu'on me temoigne, et je ne me laisse prendre seulement que 
par le bien qu'on me fait." — Le Sage. 

f i Cor. xii. 26, and cf. Plato, Rep., v. 10 : "Orav -rov rjfiwv 
va.KTv\uQ tov 7r\rjyy. 



RELATIONS. 395 

mother, living life over again in her grandchildren, it 
may be not duly esteemed by the young and thoughtless, 
has often been used by God as an instrument for 
heavenly influence. The maiden aunt, unselfish, cheerful, 
and devoted, a personage well known in many a family 
circle, has often counteracted a mother's partiality and 
indulgence by a wise and judicious training. Who 
knows how much of Timothy's gifts and graces were 
owing to the influence of his grandmother Lois ? Certain 
it is that Basil the Great received his first instruction in 
religion from his grandmother Moerina, a hearer and 
admirer of Gregory Thaumaturgus. Archbishop Usher, 
in his childhood, fell into very excellent hands. Two 
maiden aunts had been blind from their cradles, but the 
darkness did not extend to their minds. These amiable 
ladies devoted themselves to the training of their young 
nephew. 

Vittoria Colonna was childless. Under these circum- 
stances she undertook the education of Alphonso 
d'Avalos, Marchese del Vasto, a young cousin of her 
husband's. The task was a sufficiently arduous one ; * 
for the boy, beautiful, it is recorded, as an angel, and 
endowed with excellent capabilities of all sorts, was so 
wholly unbroken, and of so violent and ungovernable a 
disposition, that he had been the despair and terror of 
all who had hitherto attempted to educate him. Vittoria 
thought that she saw in the wild and passionate boy the 
materials of a worthy man. The event fully justified her 
judgment, and proved the really superior powers of mind 

* Visconti, p. 77. 



396 DULCE DOMUM. 

she must have brought to her task. Alphonso became 
a soldier of renown, not untinctured by those literary 
tastes which so remarkably distinguished his gentle pre- 
ceptress. A strong and lasting affection grew between 
them, and Vittoria, proud with good reason of her work, 
was often wont to say that the reproach of being child- 
less ought not to be deemed applicable to her, whose 
moral nature might well be said to have brought forth 
that of her pupil.* 

In the process of years, and in the vicissitudes of life, 
some are raised and others are lowered. These eleva- 
tions and abasements destroy the old level on which 
relations used to meet. Sometimes great elevation of 
character may destroy their society by rendering the 
parties mutually unsuitable. While the one has been 
rising, the other has been sinking. The one has become 
more polished and exalted, the other more barbarous 
and degraded. The unfortunate shrinks from the pros- 
perous ; the prosperous shudders at the unfortunate.t 
Or misconduct may render one side unfit to be received 
into the other's circle, but nothing can destroy the rela- 
tionship ; and it should be borne in mind that however 
unaccomplished or ill-conditioned they may be they are 
still relations, and must be so for evermore. 

Ill-matched relations live best apart, especially if their 
tastes, tempers, and opinions do not agree. The rich 
man is apt to arrogate all his success to himself, the poor 

* Trollope's "Decade of Italian Women," i. 307. 

f Kai \ir\ fi okv<{> 
dttoavTtg kKTrXayfir' airriyQiiofikvov. 

Soph. Philoc, 225. 



RELATIONS. 397 

is apt to impute it to fortune. The prosperous host 
requires attention to all his petty rules and domestic 
regulations ; the poor guest cannot change his habits 
like his clothes, and conform at once. The rich thinks 
he has the best of the argument, because he has the best 
status ; the poor man feels he is in the right, and regards 
the hospitality he is receiving as an unfair weight thrown 
into the scale, and, accordingly, there is offence on the 
one side and resentment on the other. This situation 
did not escape the great English observer of life and 
manners : — " Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My 
lady bade me tell you that, though she harbours you as 
her kinsman, she is nothing allied to your disorders. If 
you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you 
are welcome to the house ; if not, an' it would please 
you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you 
farewell." * 

The question how to deal with poor relations is a 
difficult one. It must be hard for a rich, self-made man, 
to hear a sister or an aunt at his dinner-table saying, 
" Thank you, sir," to the footman. Again, poor relations 
are not aware how painful their visits are, and how the 
servants laugh at the disreputable-looking person in the 
hall, who announces himself as " master's cousin." These 
less fortunate relations are envious of their more pros- 
perous kinsmen, and regard them as proud and super- 
cilious, when they are, in fact, only writhing under the 
ridicule and the dishonour brought upon them by some 
ill-bred or indelicate kinsman. 

* "Twelfth Night," ii. 3. 



398 DULCE DO MUM. 

Poor relations are apt to think that some rich uncle or 
aunt should divide the property with them, and this 
expectation destroys their independence, and makes 
them cringing and mendicant. By some fallacious 
reasoning, they persuade themselves that they are privi- 
leged persons, and that they are entitled to support. 
This delusion mitigates the degradation of their position. 
Then they borrow and beg, and apply again and again, 
and wear out the patience of friends by for ever springing 
the rattle for help. In all these ways they compel friends 
to become foes ; * and this explains why the poor relation 
is avoided.! 

On the other hand, those in comfortable circumstances 
ought not to become too soon wearied, nor to give 
grudgingly. It will be a future comfort, when poor 
kinsmen have died, to feel that we recognised them and 
aided them, and cheered them in life. 

Our little store of kindliness is so soon exhausted, that 
we are apt to look on poor dependents as a burden ; 
whereas it is really a privileged position to have succeeded 
better, and to have the means of helping those of the 
same family. The rate of help will be determined not 
only by their deserts, but by the magnanimous feeling of 
what it becomes us to do,| 

One who takes a large view of the providential govern- 



* Ot rovg (piXovg avayKa<javTi.Q 7ro\efiiovg yevkaOai. — Thucyd., 
vi. 92. 

■j" H'svT}Ta (ptvyei ttclq tlq iK7roS<jjv QiXog. — Eurip. Medea, 561. 

X Caesar represents the Romans as actuated by this spirit towards 
their enemies, the Carthaginians : " Magis quid se dignum foret, 
quam quid in illos jure fieri posset, quaerebant." — Sallust. Catil., 51. 



RELATIONS. 399 

ment of the world will feel less difficulty in meeting this 
natural obligation, for he believes that the abundance of 
some is intended to supplement the deficiencies of others, 
and especially of those who have the claim of blood. 

At the same time, there must be a wise limit to com- 
passion, and we must not so exaggerate to ourselves the 
claims of cousins as to forget the claims of children, or 
so to drain our own resources for the sake of others, as 
to come on the compassionate list ourselves.* 

Often it happens that these relations, in addition to 
their poverty and misfortune, add folly and imprudence. 
Then human nature is exasperated, and, glad of any 
excuse, suspends or withdraws the bounty. 

This is a natural tendency, but it is one, nevertheless, 
which ought to be guarded against. A man who is 
habitually courteous is liable occasionally to be short 
and rough with the needy ; to find fault with their house, 
their furniture, their mode of life, and the education of 
their children ; to fancy their home might be so much 
neater, so much cleaner, so much more comfortable.f 

One unconscious, and yet unpleasant, mode of reproach 
consists in recalling to mind what you have done. Now, 
as Sosia says in the Andria| of Terence — " The recital 
is, as it were, a censure to one forgetful of a kindness." 
If, in addition to this, you repeat the antecedents of your 
petitioner, reminding him how many chances he has had 

* "Ut ita te aliorum miserescat, ne tui alios misereat." — Plautus, 
Trinummus, ii. 2, 62. 

t " rebusque veni non asper egenis." 

iEn., viii. 365. 

% Ter. And., i. 1, 17. 



400 DULCE DO MUM. 

and lost, how he has misconducted himself, how un- 
grateful he has been, how incompetent and how mean, 
you do, indeed, tell him a bitter history ; * but not in 
such a way as to improve or elevate the listener. Instead 
of dwelling on the disheartening past, how much better 
to give them help and advice and encouragement for the 
future. | 

When Christ healed the lame, he did not inquire how 
they had become lame. Some things are best covered, 
especially deformities and sores. There is a special 
reason for tenderness in these cases, for the poor relation 
feels his inferiority, and is very sensitive, and in that 
condition is apt to magnify any slight, and to consider a 
harsh refusal as a compound of insult and injustice.^ 
However exalted the position of any one may be, and 
however effectual his help, yet he has no right to smear 
his gift with petulance. " The sun is the god of light to 
mortals. But if he did an insult by shining, I would not 
desire even his light." § 

If the condition of prosperity had been immutable and 
indefeasible, the wealthy would have been haughty, self- 
sufficient, and intolerable ; but God has prevented that 
by annexing to all estates the possibility of vicissitude. || 
The rich may themselves become poor, and this con- 

* " Amaras historias." — Hor. Sat., i. 3, 88. 

f Among the ancient Germans the women used to administer 
food and encouragement to those who were fighting: " Cibos et 
hortamina." — Tacit.^Germ., 7 : a wise combination. 

X ITpoc r<p flXaflei Kai raiiTrjg diroartptlaOai vo\i'd,ovaiv. — Arist. 
Polit., vii. 7. 

§ " Greek Epigrams," Eton Selection, xcv. 

J| 'O fikycLQ o\(3og oil juovi/ioc lv fipoTolg. — Eurip. Orestes, 340. 



RELATIONS. 401 

tingency, understood and appreciated, should make him 
treat the unfortunate as he may need, and as he would 
like to be treated himself.* 

The poor, though he cannot requite the kindness 
shown to him, might yet have a due sense of it, and 
acknowledge it in words and demonstrate it in conduct. 
By an effort of imagination he can conceive how discou- 
raging it must be to pour benefits into a cask full of 
holes, and which continues still empty, however much 
you pour into it ; and how hopeless it must be to rein- 
state the fallen who fall again immediately after they are 
lifted up. 

Those relations which we form by marriage or adop- 
tion, are most in danger of being overlooked. It shows 
the high character of ancient Greek philosophy, indepen- 
dent of Scripture, when Aristotle lays down that married 
people first of all in every way should take care of their 
parents, the man regarding those of his wife no less than 
his own, and the wife those of her husband.! However, 
Christian feeling easily goes beyond that, and looks on 
each other's relations generally as their own. Most par- 
ticularly ought it to be so with step-children, or adopted 
children, so as to overcome any feelings of jealousy or 
antipathy, which sometimes naturally arise. If these 
feelings are not rooted up, they grow into brutality. 
Thus we read of a child suffering from disease, and 
punished by an inhuman father-in-law for its effects ; 
and often- the little step-child is brought to the police- 
court covered with bruises and weals. 

* Td itrct vtfiojv rd fyiota avTaZiourii). — Thucyd., vi. 1 6. 
f Aristotle, CEcon., i. 9. 

D D 



4Q2 DULCE DOMUM. 

Most people have observed how the adopted orphan 
is grudged and drudged, prohibited, and frowned at. 
Yet not all relations-at-law are unkind or ungenerous. 
It ought not to be forgotten by those who talk flippantly 
on this subject, that in the great French Revolution, 
Angelique Desilles, a sister-in-law, died for her sister-in- 
law * — a noble instance of vicarious suffering. 

It was a daughter-in-law who exhibited the most 
pathetic attachment, and uttered the most touching 
expression of family affection on record : " Intreat me 
not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee ; 
for whither thou goest, I will go ; and where thou 
lodgest, I will lodge ; thy people shall be my people, 
and thy God my God : where thou diest will I die, and 
there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and 
more also, if aught but death part thee and me." 

Certainly it is a very noble thing to assist, as far as we 
can, and as soon as we can. Benefits are useless when 
they come too late. Hierocles has ridiculed this ten- 
dency very happily. A foolish fellow about to suffer 
shipwreck, called for writing tablets, that he might make 
his will; and seeing his slaves lamenting on account of 
the imminent danger, he said : " Do not grieve, for I am 
making you free." The legacy that has come to one 
worn out and hopeless might have reinstated and reha- 
bilitated, if it had come a few years sooner. Now it 
comes to tantalize, at best to alleviate, not to restore. 

But what shall be said of the incredible hardness of 
heart of those who, having needy relatives, leave all their 

* Alison's "History of Europe," ii. 189. 



RELATIONS. 403 

property to rich acquaintances, or to public charities, 
and leave nothing to their kinsmen but to weep ? * 
Certainly their memory is not blessed ; and the wealthy 
legatees accept while they despise. 

* " Nil sibi legatum piaeter plorare suisque." 

rfor. Sat., ii. 5, 69. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

FRIENDSHIP. 

Friendship is an affectionate intercourse between per- 
sons in the main like-minded, and consists in an inter- 
change of opinions and sentiments, and in a reciprocation 
of kind wishes and good offices. The friendship of a 
good man and a good woman has been strongly praised 
by wise observers. The one is the complement of the 
other. It is at the same time refining and invigorating, 
and has its highest development in marriage. Here, 
most of all, the duality of friendship passes into unity of 
thought and feeling.* 

" They seem to take the sun out of the world that take 
friendship out of life." \ In this one sentence Cicero has 
immortalised the praise of friendship. 

All men have need of friends, J the rich that they may 
give, the poor that they may receive, the wise that they 
may teach, the ignorant that they may learn — all that 
they may communicate and interchange their stores of 

* " Idem velle atque idem nolle, ea deraum firma amicitia est." — 
Sallust. CatiL, 20, 

f "De Amicitia," c. xiii. 

% "Er* 5' ava.yKai6ra.Tov dq tov (3iov. — Arist. Eth., viii. I. I. 



FRIENDSHIP. 405 

thought and feeling, of knowledge and substance, with 
one another. 

The ancient philosophers maintained that the good 
only could be friends. The earnest tone of Cicero on 
this point is very striking : " It is virtue, virtue I say, 
that both wins friendship and preserves it." * Aristotle 
said that the bad did not rejoice in one another, except 
for the sake of some advantage or pleasure \\ and when- 
ever the ulterior object failed, the friendship was dis- 
solved ; whereas good friends were permanent in spite of 
change of circumstances. 

Guilty fear sees in a present comrade a future approver, 
and this explains why the wicked distrust each other, and 
try to bind themselves together by vows and oaths, and 
artificial engagements — poor substitutes for the cohesion 
of love and esteem. Richard III. and the Duke of 
Buckingham were friends, that the one might become 
king and the other constable ; but as soon as their ends 
were attained, their friendship ceased. Buckingham 
rebelled, and was executed. Caesar Borgia with his 
poisoned ring, and Pope Alexander VI. with his poisoned 
key, soon rid themselves of any inconvenient friends, when 
they had done with them. 

Men in humble position may often be valuable friends 
to those above them in station. And this is especially 
the case if these inferiors have been much influenced by 
Christianity. Wonderful it is how the Gospel can refine 



* Cic, De Amic, c. 27. Cf. also c. 5 : " Hoc primum sentio, 
nisi in bonis amicitiam esse non posse." 
f A rist. Eth., viii. 4, 2, and passim* 



406 DULCE DOMUM. 

and polish a man. Out of the rough iron ore comes the 
fine polished steel. On the other hand, he that con- 
siders his origin, and understands the great community of 
human nature, will not be supercilious. He knows that 
the diamond is of the same material as the coal. It is 
the spirit of caste that can discern nothing great in a 
Christian of low degree, just as an ignorant man can dis- 
cern nothing great in little stars, yet little stars are suns. 

The foremost requisite in friendship is that it should 
be genuine. We expect a friend to love us for our- 
selves, for our character, not for our money or our enter- 
tainments. Affection is the excellence of friendship, and 
it must exist on both sides. " A man that hath friends 
must show himself friendly, and there is a friend that 
sticketh closer than a brother."* Now, if one profess 
friendship to us, and yet really only aims at some selfish 
object, he is not a friend. It was a rare compliment 
which Madame de Stael paid to her friend M. de Mont- 
morency: " He only sought to do good to my soul" 

Still, if a friend is in difficulty, it is the very essence of 
friendship to help ; and to be wanting at such a crisis 
would show that one was no friend. For what is a 
falsely-professing friend but a clock, whose hands point 
rightly on the dial-plate, but which never strike the time 
convenient to help you ? 

The great are apt rather to have favourites than friends. 
Few were ever more unfortunate in this respect than 
Edward II. The history of his attachment to Piers Gave- 
ston and the Despensers was a touching warning to all 

* Prov. xviii. 24. 



FRIENDSHIP, 407 

future princes. Yet James I. did not read it, or read it 
to no purpose ; and Queen Anne profited as little. 

The favourite is the cousin of the flatterer, and both 
are counterfeit friends. An acute observer has noticed 
that to be loved is akin to being honoured, and that 
friendship or the being loved is an object at which 
many aim. They therefore lay themselves open to 
flatterers, who profess to be their friends in order to 
gratify them.* Flattery is insincere and deceives ; it 
cannot therefore exercise a beneficial and corrective 
influence. On the contrary, it is as injurious as its 
counterpart in the natural world. The honey-dew, sweet 
and clammy, fills the pores of the leaves on which it is 
deposited, and destroys them. In general it may be 
safely predicted that weak and short-lived will be that 
friendship which is saturated with flattery. 

History has preserved memorials of many noble friends, 
but perhaps none so touching and affectionate as one 
famous in Hebrew records. It is David who thus 
laments : " I am distressed for thee, my brother Jona- 
than : very pleasant hast thou been unto me : thy love 
to me was wonderful, passing the love of women." f 

A splendid instance of friendship was exhibited just 
before the execution of Lord Russell. His intimate 
friend, Lord Cavendish, did not desert him in his 
calamity, but offered to manage his escape by changing 
clothes with him, and remaining at all hazards in his 
place. Russell refused to save his own life by an ex- 
pedient which might expose his friend to many hard- 

* Arist. Eth., viii. 8, 1. f 2 Sam - *• 26 « 



408 DULCE DOMUM. 

ships. The Duke of Monmouth also by message offered 
to surrender himself, if Russell thought that this measure 
would anywise contribute to his safety : " It will be no 
advantage to me," he said, " to have my friends die with 
me." 

When the Prince of Orange was seized by the small- 
pox, and the disease wore at first a particularly malignant 
aspect, his complaint took a favourable turn and he 
recovered. His escape was attributed partly to his own 
singular equanimity, and partly to the intrepid and inde- 
fatigable friendship of Bentinck. From the hands of 
Bentinck alone William took food and medicine. By 
Bentinck alone William was lifted from his bed and laid 
down in it. " Whether Bentinck slept or not while I was 
ill," said William to Temple, with great tenderness, " I 
know not ; but this I know, that through sixteen days 
and nights I never once called for anything but Bentinck 
was instantly at my side." 

Before the faithful servant had entirely performed his 
task he had himself caught the contagion. Still, how- 
ever, he bore up against drowsiness and fever till his 
master was pronounced convalescent. Then, at length, 
Bentinck asked leave to go home. It was time ; for his 
limbs would no longer support him. He was in great 
danger, but recovered, and, as soon as he left his bed, 
hastened to the army, where during many sharp cam- 
paigns he was ever found, as he had been in peril of a 
different kind, close to William's side. Hence it may be 
seen that a king may have a true friend, warmly attached 
to his person, and willing to risk life in his behalf, and 
not a mere flatterer or favourite. It is also very pleasant 



FRIENDSHIP. 409 

to match this sympathy in illness by a counterpart from 
literary friendship, where competition so keen and 
jealous might willingly let a rival die. During Schiller's 
illness, Goethe was much depressed. Voss found him 
once pacing up and down his garden, crying by himself. 

The aphorism that friendship doubles our joys and 
divides our sorrows is so patent that it has become com- 
monplace, and therefore is apt not to be so appreciated 
and realised as it ought to be. But before friendship 
can accomplish this moral arithmetic, there must be 
entire sympathy. Now sympathy with sorrow is far easier 
than sympathy with joy, for here envy comes in and 
checks the flow of congratulation, so that it becomes 
constrained.* 

Friendship develops itself most naturally in living 
happily together. Hence some drink together, some 
dice together, others exercise and hunt together, or study 
together; each passing their time in the occupation 
which they like best of all things in life.f This friendly 
feeling will sometimes seek its gratification under very 
adverse and unfavourable circumstances. During the 
Diocletian persecution, Pamphilus was cast into prison, 
where he spent two whole years in bonds. Eusebius, his 
friend and companion, visited him continually, and in 
the prison they wrote together five books in defence of 
Origen.J 

* Kai ^vyx ai 9 oVaiv ofi.oioTrpS7rtlg 
'AysXa<Tr« -Kpoaujira j^ia^ofiivou 

JEsch. Agam., 794. 



f Arist. Eth., ix. 12, 2. 

X " Life of Eusebius," by Valesius. 



4io DULCE DOMUM. 

The admonition of a kind and judicious friend is of 
great advantage, and therefore friends ought both to give 
and take it ; but all have not this wisdom, which gave 
one occasion to say that old friends, like grey hairs, are 
plucked out for telling unpleasant truths. He is a wise 
man who receives the admonition of friends, accepts their 
testimony against his fault, and enters it in his litany. 
The Roman Church has systematized La Monition. One 
novice is appointed to make known to another his faults 
in respect to Christian or ecclesiastical virtues. Many 
Christians have no doubt spontaneously tried a similar 
plan. Wilberforce says : " M. and I made an agreement 
to pay a guinea forfeit, and not to tell particulars to each 
other. I hope this will be an instrument under divine 
grace to keep me from excess." That was not a very 
wise plan ; still it was better than the system of humiliat- 
ing each other by mutual confession and fault-finding. 

In order to preserve friendship, respect is absolutely 
necessary.* Now, confession degrades a man, and 
destroys respect. Among the Buddhists, twice a month, 
at the new and at the full moon, the monks confessed 
their faults aloud before the assembly. This is not an 
act of humility, but an act of humiliation, and it may be 
safely assumed that wherever in married life, or in friend- 
ship, or in business, men were to proclaim all the evil 
that is in them, and to give confidence for confidence, it 
would lead only to mutual repulsion and disgust. 

There is some value in a foolish friend ; he thinks 



* " Nam maximum ornamentum amicitise tollit, qui ex ea tollit 
verecundiam." — Cic, De Amic, 22. 



FRIENDSHIP. 4 t i 

aloud, and lets you know his own and the opinions of 
others regarding you. This is very serviceable when 
persons who ought to esteem and love each other are 
kept asunder, as often happens, by some cause which 
three words of frank explanation would remove. Then 
they are fortunate if they possess an indiscreet friend, 
who blurts out the whole truth.* 

It is prudent to have friends ; and this is true of 
nations as well as individuals. Very instructive is the 
appeal of the Corcyreans to the Athenians. They said 
they had abstained from being allies of any party, and 
had considered it prudent not to share in their neigh- 
bours' peril ; and now that their hour of trial had come, 
and that they were involved in war, they found them- 
selves destitute of friends. f Many individuals act on 
the same principle, and for fear of the obligations of 
friendship withdraw into their selfish shell, not foreseeing 
that a time may come when they shall need the friendly 
help which they shrink from giving. 

The idea of utility is not too gross for the highest 
friendship, which after all is human. Utility is not a 
motive but a consequent. A generous mind will strive 
to be foremost in acts of kindness, for these are the out- 
comings of friendship, and will never be regretted. J 
Nor will a friend fear the risk attending upon courageous 
interference for a meeker brother. How little is the 
good we can do personally, how manifold the good we 

* Macaulay's "History of England," ii. 437. 
f Thucyd., i. 32. 

J " Non metus, officio ne te certasse priorem 
Pceniteat." — iEn., i. 548. 



412 DULCE DO MUM. 

can do through the instrumentality of friends ! Nobody 
is insured against losses and reverses ; and it is in such 
circumstances that sincere friendship is tested, for a 
friend in need is a friend indeed. 

It is curious to notice that Aristotle, writing on this 
subject, anticipated St. Paul's famous aphorism : — "Love 
is the fulfilling of the law ;" for he had said, " When men 
are friends there is no need of justice ; but when they 
are just they still need friendship." * 

As wicked men, by associating together and constant 
influence, wax worse arid worse, so good friends, on the 
same principle, ought to become better and better ; for 
they applaud and encourage each other, and repress any 
inconsistency with their general life. It is pleasant to 
correspond with a friend by letter ; how much more to 
have intercourse face to face. Some have extensive cor- 
respondence, and that correspondence is one of their 
greatest pleasures, and one of their greatest means of 
influence. But it is especially in conversation — free, 
personal, and sympathetic — that life is refreshed with the 
dew of friendship. It is more than dew, it is the medicine 
of life; \ for it relieves the sick mind, gives a tone to 
the feeble spirit, and calms the feverish pulsations of 
passion. 

When the prayers of Achilles are granted, he cannot 
enjoy them. "What pleasure is there in them to me, 
since Patroclus, my dear companion, is dead ; whom I 
honoured beyond all my companions, equally with my- 
self." t 

* Arist. Eth., viii. I, 4. f Ecclus. vi. 16. 

I Iliad, xviii. 80. 






FRIENDSHIP. 413 

Friendship has its dangers, of which partiality is one. 
A friend is not apt to be a good witness, nor a good 
judge in the case of his friend. One ought to lay aside 
the character of a friend when he puts on that of a judge.* 
The seductive influence of friendship was well shown 
in the Gunpowder Plot. Catesby was an influential 
ringleader. Rookwood and Digby were seduced by 
their implicit trust in his judgment; and they declared 
that, from the motive alone of friendship to him, they 
were ready, on any occasion, to have sacrificed their 
lives. t 

It is safe to have neither too many friends nor none. 
When there are too many, the cup of life is over- 
sweetened ; and to have none is to have no sweetening \ 
at all. It is evident, also, that the love of any single in- 
dividual is of finite dimensions, and that he who has a 
multitude of friends can pay only a small dividend to 
each. 

The fact that friends may and do change is a great 
drawback. A change of principles often involves a change 
of friends, and in this case a change may be right and 
expedient ; but it is discreditable when friends fall off at 
the approach of adversity. Such friends are like brass 
pendulums, which shine well, but keep the worst time, 
and vary with every variation of temperature. However 
reliable a friend or relation may be, yet, simply because 
he may change, it is indiscreet to resign one's power or 
property to him. 



Cic, De Off., iii. 10. f Hu., c. xlvi. 

X Arist. Eth., ix. io, 2. 



414 DULCE DO MUM. 

Even states do by policy what swallows do by 
instinct. When Charles II. was restored, and the 
summer of prosperity came upon him, then Spain and 
France and the Netherlands flew to his side; but the 
world that had paid Cardinal Wolsey such abject court 
during his prosperity, entirely deserted him on the 
fatal reverse of his fortunes. Desertion is not the worst. 
False friends feel their own meanness, and they try to 
justify it by disparagement. Then it is they discover all 
the weakness of their old friends, and repeat unguarded 
sayings, and publish sacred secrets. All the world 
ought to unite in detestation of the deserter-friend. 

Admirable is the fidelity of that friend, who avows 
identity with you in the time of misrepresentation, and 
who, refusing a proffered exemption, says, "Revile us 
both. v 

The mocker is one of whom all men should beware. 
He will not scruple to give an entertainment of wit and 
ridicule at his friend's expense. These private theatricals 
cannot be kept secret; the ridicule oozes out; then 
friends are irritated, and the irritation either waxes into 
hostility or subsides into hatred. Even a companion 
should never be chosen, like Junius Brutus, for the sake 
of fun.* 

The danger of confiding lies here. Narrow-minded 
men will represent your difficulties, inquiries, and doubts 
as your opinions. Therefore, one had need beware to 
whom he confides his perplexities. And even if men 
are not ill-natured, but only indiscreet, we must not 

* " Deridiculi gratia." 



FRIENDSHIP. 415 

pour in our confidence there, lest it should leak out at 
the little hole of indiscretion. 

Friendship is very liable to suffer from familiarity, 
It is only a very great man that can afford to be familiar 
and not suffer for it. Oliver Cromwell supported his 
dignity well among strangers ; but among his old friends 
he could unbend himself, jesting and making verses, and 
playing practical jokes. 

How pleasant are hearty friendships ! How much joy 
does he want who wants them ! And yet that very 
heartiness places you in false positions, and often extorts 
the cry, " Save me from my friends ! " Some of the 
actions which one most regrets have been done at the 
instance of good-natured but foolish friends. Surely it 
must have been a pain to Cyril of Alexandria, if he 
knew that his friends were stationed in the cathedral to 
lead or second the applause of the congregation while he 
was preaching. " The Bishop of Salisbury," said Tillot- 
son, of Burnet, " is one of the best and worst friends 
that I know." He had laboured to promote Tillotson to 
the archbishopric against his will. 

In the hours of glowing converse beware of uttering 
secrets, for Friendship opens the door, and Enmity catches 
the bird let out. It is on this account that converse 
with a friend is sometimes more perilous than with an 
enemy, for, when friends meet, it is a holiday, and the 
sentinels Caution and Distrust get leave of absence. 

Two methods which ought to go together are how to 
get and how to keep friends. As some know how to 
gain victories, but do not know how to use them, so 
some know how to gain friends, but do not know how to 



416 DULCE DOMUM. 

retain them. The best way is to choose wisely and 
judiciously at first. He who forms a friendship without 
judging and knowing, often prepares for himself a sorrow, 
a reproach, and an enmity. 

The dissolution of friendship is brought about in many 
ways ; often by disappointment. We do not find a 
friend to be what we expected. A closer knowledge has 
revealed faults and defects, which repel. It is often with 
a man as with a city ; it looks picturesque at a distance, 
but disappoints on closer inspection. Afar off you see 
its towers, nearer you smell its slums : so with a man, he 
exhibits his glittering parts, his offensive qualities you 
discover for yourself. We need therefore to be very 
cautious, and precaution is more necessary to be taken 
by those who love easily, for they are apt also to hate 
easily ; and the hatred lasts longer than the love. This 
was the character of the Earl of Leicester as painted by 
Motley. He hated easily, and he hated for life. He 
began by warmly commending Buys and Barneveld, 
Hohenlo and Maurice, and endowing them with every 
virtue. Before he left the country he had accused them 
of every crime, and would cheerfully, if he could, have 
taken the life of every one of them. 

Probably misanthropy is produced by the falsity of 
friends. This is the explanation of Plato. He says that 
hatred of mankind is produced in us from having placed 
too great reliance on some one without sufficient know- 
ledge of him, and from having considered him to be a 
man altogether true, sincere, and faithful, and then after 
a little while finding him depraved and unfaithful ; and 
after him another. And when a man has often expe- 



FRIENDSHIP. 417 

rienced this, and especially from those whom he con- 
sidered his most intimate and best friends, at length, 
having frequently stumbled, he hates all men, and thinks 
that there is no soundness at all in any of them.* 

Fickleness is fostered by the delusion that new friends 
are easily acquired, and that they will be better than the 
old : whereas all experience testifies to the contrary. A 
new friend is not comparable to the old : a new friend is 
as new wine; when it is old thou shalt drink it with 
pleasure.! Cling to the old friends. It was a royal 
saying (and its vulgarity is redeemed by its truth) that 
old friends are like old shoes, easiest for the feet. 
Cicero \ has a more classical metaphor. He thinks that 
there is nobody who would not rather use the horse to 
which he is accustomed than one untried and new. 

Others are disappointing, inasmuch as you never seem 
to know them better, or to increase in sympathy or 
friendliness, or to grow into intimacy. They are like 
those mathematical lines called asymptotes, which ap- 
proach nearer and nearer to some curve without ever 
touching it. Another species lose their friends by over- 
taxation. They are always wanting a favour, borrowing, 
begging, depending. Some exact incense, and cool if this 
tribute is withheld. Those who make these unreasonable 
requirements are sometimes punished by being left with 
those rogues or fools that are willing, from ulterior 
motives, to burn incense to vanity. § Dr. Parr was really 
a kindly man ; but he required the most abject submis- 



* Phsedo, c. 39. f Ecclus. ix. 10. J De Amicitia, c. xix. 

§ Jer. xviii. 15. 

E E 



418 DULCE DOMUM. 

sion, and exacted the most slavish attention from all who 
approached him, or he never hesitated about insulting 
and making himself exquisitely offensive to them. 

Those unions which are formed for the sake of pleasure 
are by no means everlasting. How could they — being 
glued together only by passion? Friendship is also apt to 
perish when there are great intervals of intercourse. It 
falls into a decline for want of nutriment, and then exists 
merely as a languid organic life. If silence and absence 
cause no concern, there can be but little feeling. Or 
there may be merely a misunderstanding; and if so, do 
not let the icicle last. A little friendly heat would soon 
melt it. 

It has been observed how rarely a high confidence and 
affection receives the least diminution without sinking 
into absolute indifference, or even running into the 
opposite extreme. It is owing to this extreme delicacy 
of friendship that it is so easily injured and destroyed : 
so easily that even a slight whisper will separate between 
friends and break up their friendship, though never so 
strong ; just as a little seed falling into the crevice of a 
rock, after a time expanding and swelling, bursts the 
compact mass asunder. Or if there is the slightest flaw 
of deceit, the most precious stone and the dearest friend- 
ship will be alike liable to split asunder. And if not 
broken it may be easily spoiled; the breath of a 
derider will rust the brightest friendship. He who 
deals in ridicule and invective, in familiarity and mimicry, 
must resign either his friends or his faults. Both he 
cannot hold. 

Sometimes it is necessary to give up a friend, and even 



FRIENDSHIP' 419 

that needs to be performed delicately. Cicero * has a 
fine saying on this head, to the effect that " it is better to 
unstitch than to tear a friendship" Klopstock, though a 
Christian, had not so much of the meekness of wisdom, 
but he preferred a rupture. Hence his declaration to 
Goethe : " / hereby declare you unworthy of my friend- 
ship." Goethe had refused his admonitions. Such a 
declaration would only embitter and irritate, and the 
verdict of experience would be that when friends deem it 
wise to separate, they should, like the flint, part asunder 
smoothly. 

Elevation separates. A man who rises above his 
fellows is not so much separated from them by pride, 
as they fancy, but by a change of manners, tastes, 
and sympathies. The parties are no longer of the 
same class — are no longer counterparts. The better 
a man becomes, the more his circle of friends 
decreases. His self-denial grates the self-indulgence 
of one ; his charity is deaf to the evil-speaking of 
another ; his contentment silently reproves the covet- 
ousness of a third : in a word, his mind is quite out 
of harmony with the worldly spirit of his old friends, 
and they cannot sympathize with his spiritual struggles 
and aspirations. 

We should not dissolve friendships rashly, because they 
are crystals easy to break, but difficult to mend. We 
easily take offence and long retain the remembrance. 
How easily is friendship dissevered, how rarely is it ever 
thoroughly restored ; and after it is patched and mended 

* De Amicitia, c. 21. 



420 DULCE DOMUM. 

it never is again what it was before. When Burke was 
dying, Fox generously went to see him, but Burke 
would not receive his old friend. Burke had before 
this shown great violence of temper, and it may have 
been partly owing to this, that he grew to be at one time 
so entirely neglected. 

We ought to fear the rupture of an excellent friendship 
as we should fear the rupture of a blood-vessel. There- 
fore we should not offend a friend by alluding to his 
warts, * and such-like trifles. Nor is it necessary to correct 
every palpable slip, nor is it wise to speak all we know. 
When Nicon was degraded from the patriarchal throne, 
through the malice of his enemies, he repeated to himself 
with a dry irony : " Ah, Nicon, Nicon, do not lose 
your friends. Do not say all that may be true." f Still 
when trifles have a power of growth and development, 
when they may lead to serious consequences, \ they 
cease to be trifles ; and true friendship demands that we 
should notice them, though in the tenderest and kindest 
manner. 

A friend being as it were a part of oneself, to cast him 
off is a sort of self-mutilation, and the portion once cut 
off cannot well be joined again. Old and estranged 
friends often, no doubt, long secretly for reunion, and 



* "Qui, ne tuberibus propriis offendat amicum, 
Postulat, ignoscet verrucis illius." 

Hor. Sat., i. 3, 74. 

f Dean Stanley's " History of the Eastern Church," p. 444. 

t "Hse nugse seria ducent 
In mala." — Hor., Ars. Poet., 451. 



FRIENDSHIP. 421 

generally it ends in longing. Two estranged friends, 
Lord Melville and Wilberforce, came suddenly upon 
each other in a passage, where the light struck upon 
their faces. " We saw one another, and at first I 
thought he was passing on, but he stopped and called 
out, ' Ah, Wilberforce, how do you do ? ' and gave me a 
hearty shake by the hand. I would have given a 
thousand pounds for that shake. I never saw him 
afterwards." * It was the last time they met. There 
is something touching in the last time ; and often after- 
wards the mind reverts to it. Who is a stranger to 
the sensation experienced on hearing of the death 
of a friend, whose safety you greatly doubt ? You 
recall the last occasion when you met. Did you 
speak one word for God ? Does it not concern you 
if you did not use the opportunity of life to rouse that 
soul? 

There are few, if any, sadder instances of ruptured 
riendship than that which existed between Sir William 
Hamilton the metaphysician and John Gibson Lockhart. 
They had been constant friends; but about 181 8, owing 
to some political difference, there occurred a breach that 
was never healed. It was a subject so painful to Sir 
William that he hardly ever spoke of it afterwards. Lock- 
hart more than once began to tell the story; but the 
subject was too painful, and he always broke off without 
finishing. In spite of the estrangement they seemed to 
have entertained warm feelings towards one another ; and 
twenty-six years afterwards, when Lockhart heard of his 

* " Wilberforce's Life," iii. 230. 



422 DULCE DOMUM. 

friend's illness he wrote : " The account afflicts me to the 
inmost heart." * 

Christianity has been blamed for its omission of friend- 
ship, but unjustly. Christianity, original in many ways, 
was also original in this, that it introduced a new and 
higher species of friendship, under the name of brotherly 
love.t It is not Christianity that has been hostile to its 
development, but the dogmatism that calls itself Christi- 
anity, and which ignores the new commandment of Christ, 
to love one another. Archbishop Usher lived on terms 
of friendship with many persons of other communions, 
and considered that it would be wrong to suffer that 
harmony to be interrupted by contentions about doubt- 
ful questions and matters of small moment. It was at 
his suggestion that Baxter wrote and published his " Call 
to the Unconverted." One said : " Talk of loving me 
while I agree with them ! Give me men that will love 
me when I differ from them and contradict them." 

Friendship descending by inheritance is one of the 
most pleasant sights. He was a poor friend to the father 
who will not befriend the child. A fine trait is recorded 
of James I. Lord Lenox had been converted to Protes- 
tantism by the king and afterwards died in exile. The 
king sent for his family, restored his son to his paternal 
honours and estate, took care to establish the fortunes of 
all his other children, and to his last moments never 
forgot the early friendship which he had borne their 
father. 

* " Memoir of Sir W. Hamilton," by Professor Veitch, pp. 37, 
40, 44, 90, 282. 
f QtXa8e\<pia. 



FRIENDSHIP. 423 

Those who are apt to deify friendship have need to re- 
member the warning Ne nimis. The world is passing away 
and so are its friendships, however interesting, engaging, 
and romantic. They are like the gorgeous sunsets, or the 
many-tinted leaves of autumn, they will not stay with us. 
Then use your friends well while you have them. The 
heart may soon be inlaid with tablets sacred to the 
memory of these departed ones. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

In most questions place is an important element ; in 
many cases it is one of the most determining influences. 
It makes the greatest difference whether a man is born in 
England or in Patagonia, whether he is born in a palace 
or a prison, whether he lives in a mansion or in the 
hollow trunk of a tree, whether he breathes a balmy- 
atmosphere or shivers in a bleak and icy climate, whether 
he is educated in a civilised school or grows up amidst 
barbarous customs. Buckle has endeavoured to show 
that the character of a people is dependent on material 
circumstances, such as soil, climate, food, aspect of 
nature, and the like. 

The large number of independent states in Greece 
was very remarkable, and may be accounted for by this 
theory. Each of them was founded in a plain surrounded 
by mountains high and rugged, and therefore grew up in 
solitude and independence, forming an isolated character, 
and unaffected by external influences. The spirit of the 
people was formed by the physical situation. 

On the other hand the tastes, prejudices, and opinions 
of people are moulded by the customs of the country 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 425 

where they are born and bred. If we had first seen the 
light in some districts of Africa we should have eaten 
rats, moles, squirrels, snakes, and locusts, like the other 
natives. We should have acquiesced in the custom 
without thinking it extraordinary that no woman is 
allowed to eat an egg.* 

It is a beautiful arrangement of Providence that we all 
love our native country, however bleak and barren it 
may be. Tacitus noticed that characteristic in the ancient 
Germans, and describes their fatherland as rude in its 
surface, rigorous in its climate, cheerless to every be- 
holder, except a native, f 

Those into whose hands this book may come have 
probably cause to be thankful for the place in which they 
find themselves. Their lot has fallen not only in pleasant, 
but in prosperous, enlightened, and healthy places ; and 
they could easily make a large list of advantages they 
derive from the neighbourhood in which they live ; and 
they would appreciate these more keenly if they were 
called to reside in an inferior locality. The exile who is 
banished and forbidden to set foot on his native land 
pines for his country with a new or intensified love. 

Now our responsibilities are always in proportion to 
our advantages, and therefore as there are privileges of 
neighbourhood, there are also duties of neighbourhood. 

People are so apt to be ungrateful and discontented 
that they are insensible of many blessings which they 
possess. The monk who walked for a whole day by the 

* Mungo Park's "Travels," pp. 62, 63. 

f " (Germaniam) informem terris, asperam ccelo, tristem cultu 
aspectuque, nisi si patria sit." — Tacit. Germ., 2. 



426 DULCE DOMUM. 

beautiful lake of Geneva, and would not look at that 
incomparable landscape, is a type of thousands who will 
not recognise the good things around them. 

No doubt there are disadvantageous neighbourhoods ; 
and sometimes a young man leaving the university is 
ordained to some remote sphere without society or 
books, and in his mind he may compare it to a beehive 
set down in a neighbourhood destitute of flowers ; but 
generally speaking civilisation has ramified its blessings 
everywhere, and made the remote near at hand. 

Some people, especially those who have travelled, 
whether from affectation or the acquisition of unsettled 
habits, always depreciate the present place. Leo Pilatus, 
the first Greek professor at Florence, may be taken as a 
type. In Italy he was a Thessalian ; in Greece a native 
of Calabria ; in the company of the Latins he disdained 
their language, religion, and manners ; no sooner was he 
landed at Constantinople than he again sighed for the 
wealth of Venice and the elegance of Florence.* 

It is this restlessness which leads men to make frequent 
change, and at more cost than they suppose, for it is not 
merely the expense of removal, but the loss of influence, 
which is to be calculated. Even a tree cannot be trans- 
planted in summer without a temporary suspension of its 
circulation. Leaving the old house and the old neigh- 
bours is a sort of uprooting, and therefore it has been 
well said : — 

" I never saw an oft-removed tree, 
Nor yet an oft-removed family, 
That throve so well as those that settled be." 

* Gibbon's " History," vii. 248. 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 427 

One more disadvantage of removal ought not to be 
overlooked. When one leaves a neighbourhood local 
enemies wax bold, but they are kept in check by one's 
presence. Men are impelled by delusive hopes of 
change. It is true that residence in another climate may, 
to a certain extent, improve health, and therewith tone 
and temper; but no radical improvement dare be ex- 
pected from mere local change. Horace has as much as 
any one dispelled this delusion by the famous line where 
he says that " those who run across the sea change their 
climate, not their disposition."* Farther on he gives 
the explanation: "The mind is at fault which never 
escapes from itself." f 

He who is keenly sensitive of his local advantages 
will gratefully acknowledge his obligations. He sees 
that much of his comfort is owing to his neighbours, and 
therefore he will do something for them. One's next- 
door neighbour may never have done you a positive kind- 
ness, but if he has been only careful and kept his house 
from fire, that is no small advantage, for your interest is 
concerned when your neighbour's house is on fire. J 
Probably, in turn, he appreciates your character for care- 
fulness, and so dwells securely by thee. Owing to this 
proximity, and being ready to help at midnight, or at 
some critical moment, it comes to pass that better is a 
neighbour that is near than a brother far off. It is one of 
the innocent delusions of Nature that we often think our 



* Hor. Ep., i. 11, 27. 

f "In culpa est animus, qui se non effugit unquam." — Ibid,, 
14, 12. 

% " Nam tua res agitur paries quum proximus ardet." 



428 DULCE DOMUM. 

native place the best and sweetest. Some African tribes 
consider their country the best, and their own people as 
the happiest, and they pity the fate of other nations, who 
have been placed by Providence in less fertile and less 
fortunate districts.* The duties of neighbourhood were 
recognised by the heathen. Cicero advises his readers 
to be just and good-natured to the vicinage and sur- 
rounding occupiers. f In Babylon they showed their care 
for their neighbours by a simple custom. They bring 
out their sick to the market-place, for they have no 
physicians ; then those who pass by the sick person con- 
fer with him about the disease to discover whether they 
have themselves been afflicted with the same malady, or 
have seen others so afflicted. Thus the passers-by con- 
fer with him, and advise him to have recourse to the 
same treatment as that by which they escaped a similar 
disease, or as they have known cure others. And they 
are not allowed to pass by a sick person in silence, with- 
out inquiring into the nature of his distemper.]: 

It appears that there was a similar custom among the 
Spanish mountaineers. § Of course, this rude interchange 
of experience is not to be compared with the organized 
philanthropy of the Church of the fourth century, but it 
implied as great, if not greater, personal interest than an 
annual subscription. || Before Christian influence had 
reached America, hospitals were established in the prin- 



* Park's "Travels," p. 220. f Cic, De Off., ii. 18. 

% Herod., i. 197. § Strabo., iii. c. 3. 

|j " Nam aut opera benigne fit indigentibus, aut pecunia. Facilior 
est hsec posterior, locupleti praesertim : sed ilia lautior ac splendidior 
et viro forti claroque dignior." — Cic., De Off., ii. 15. 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 429 

cipal cities of Mexico for the cure of the sick, and the 
permanent refuge of the disabled soldier ; and surgeons 
were placed over them " who were so far better than 
those in Europe," says an old chronicler, " that they did 
not protract the cure in order to increase the pay."* It 
is unwise to ascribe hospitals and philanthropy to Chris- 
tianity alone. It can only be done at the expense of 
humanity and by the degradation of man, in which some 
theologians delight. We may find as real compassion 
and humanity in a heathen as in a Christian. Most 
memorable is Mungo Park's testimony to the pity and 
kindness of African women, and Dr. Livingstone relates 
how Sekeletu " kindly covered me with his own blanket, 
and lay uncovered himself." But Christianity has in- 
tensified, systematized, and refined the old humanity ; 
and we shall do well not only to subscribe, but to 
train up our children to subscribe, to hospitals and 
charities. 

Marriage enlarges sympathy, and makes a man a 
better neighbour. The husband is distressed to see 
his wife ill, although surrounded with many comforts; 
and he thinks how many poor women there are as ill, 
and worse, and yet with no comforts. The father is 
alarmed to see his little sufferer on the sick couch, and 
he feels pity for other little sufferers. He considers how 
he can have advice, nursing, medicine, and all other 
appliances ; and he reflects on the destitute homes which 
are without all these alleviations, but which are invaded 
by disease nevertheless. It was a reflection of this kind 

* Prescott's "Conquest of Mexico," c. ii. 



430 DULCE DO MUM. 

which induced a statesman to say: " I subscribe to 
hospitals and dispensaries with increased good-will since 
I became a husband and a father." 

To have even lived together in the same parish, or to 
have worshipped in the same church, establishes a subtle 
and invisible link, and one which is often affectionately 
acknowledged in a far distant land.* Even the provin- 
cial accent is sweet. t Wordsworth has finely touched 
on this claim in his lines, " To a Highland Girl : " — 

u Thou art to me but as a wave 
Of the wild sea : and I would have 
Some claim upon thee, if I could, 
Though but of common neighbourhood." 

It requires some largeness of heart to acknowledge 
these dues, for they are voluntary, and voluntary rates 
are seldom paid. We may, therefore, expect to meet 
with many inconsistencies and much neglect on this 
subject. 

Society has been to a great extent dislocated in these 
recent times. The railway has done it. In olden times 
employers and employed lived in cities together. Now 
the merchant and the tradesman live in the suburbs, and 
the workmen live in the town. Still, this dislocation 
cannot destroy the relationships of society ; for the in- 
crease of civilisation is synonymous with the increase of 
mutual dependence.^ 

What sort of gods should we be ? Look at the crowd 



* " Prosit nostris in montibus ortas." — ^En., ix. 92. 

f tb (J>L\to.tov (pojvrjfia. — Soph. Philoct., 234. 
X I have inverted a remark of Lord Derby. 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 431 

in the railway train ; how eager they are to hurry with 
express speed from the smoke and smell of the crowded 
city, j little thinking of the thousands whom they leave 
behind in abodes of poverty and misery. Let us be 
thankful : God does not leave the east ends of our great 
towns. Selfishness first limits, and then neglects, the 
duties of neighbourhood. Far from amiable is the man 
who is ever ready with the don't-belong-to-our-parish 
argument. As to feeling an interest in the less favoured 
race of men who are living in darkness, barbarism, and 
cruelty, he would regard that as Quixotic. He would 
have the sun shine always on himself; and while he is 
warm and comfortable, he forgets the thousands who sit 
in darkness and in coldness in the other hemisphere, 
The Cairites pray God not that the plague may cease, 
but that it may go to another city.* What a large view 
of neighbourhood is taken by a philanthropic mind ! 
Howard determined to devote the remainder of his life 
to an inspection of the principal hospitals and lazarettos 
in Europe, in order to ascertain and remedy their defects. 
He travelled forty thousand miles in ten years, not to 
see beautiful landscapes, to hear delightful music, or to 
visit galleries and palaces, but to go from prison to 
prison to gauge and to diminish the misery of man- 
kind.! 

Might we not say to a sordid man who makes his 
money in a poor neighbourhood, and does little or 
nothing beyond the payment of wages, Thou enjoyest 
the things of life without paying God's dues. Leave off 

* Eothen, p. 286. f Burke. 



432 DULCE DOMUM. 

thy smuggling and render unto God the things that are 
God's. But it is hard to raise up charity from heartless 
men \ you might as well raise water from a valveless 
pump : you work the piston of persuasion and push the 
water up, but as there is no valve, it straight flows 
down again. 

The unkind man's door is guarded by three watch- 
dogs — Temper, Reproach, and Unkindness. The poor 
have not worn his door-step. But in every parish, where 
there is a true representative of God, the parsonage is, 
in the best sense, a public-house, where all may come, 
where the tale of distress is patiently listened to, and 
advice, and food, and wine, and clothing, kindly given. 
It is likely that some may take advantage of this gene- 
rosity, and be forward and presuming ; still one need not 
be hedged in with palisades of ceremony, but may be 
sufficiently guarded by the invisible fence of self-respect, 
which intercepts the advance of intrusiveness. 

A certain amount of respect is due to local feeling 
and custom. Every one would see the propriety, and 
even the necessity of doing this, in China or Japan ; — it 
is to some extent necessary in the most civilised coun- 
tries. We may despise the custom, and yet, if we wish 
to have an influence for good, we must not show con- 
tempt for that which is, in effect, the sum of local feeling.* 
If we think it hurtful, we may try to remove it by respect- 
ful and prudent methods ; but to act with contempt and 



* XPV dt Z,svov niv K&pra 7rpoffx M P^ v foXtc 
ov5' cmttov yvsa cxttiq avQdSrjQ yeyu*g 
7riKp6g TroXiTCtig ioTiv afiaOiag viro. 

Eurip. Med., 222, 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 433 

violence is a retrogression to the barbarous period, when 
it used to be a pastime of antagonistic sects to mutilate 
each other's idols — an exciting game, breeding hostility 
and revenge, and other deteriorating passions. 

All our efforts should be opportune, and therefore we 
should wait till we have gained the good-will of our 
neighbours. When we have rendered their minds well- 
disposed, pleasant, and cheerful, they will respond to 
our appeals ; for it is with men as with the weather, when 
it is dull and heavy the echoes are but faint. 

We ought, as far as possible, to co-operate with our 
neighbours in doing good, and in supporting those 
parochial societies which are the buttresses of a Church. 
If there is a difference of religion, still neighbours can 
unite on the neutral ground of charity, education, circu- 
lation of useful and scriptural knowledge. All our intel- 
lectual differences should unite in moral unity, as the 
different rainbow colours blend in white-like purity. We 
must not expect that such associations will be entirely to 
our mind. It is generous and noble to sink an indi- 
vidual opinion or taste for the public good; and it is 
mean to hinder a charitable work in order to gratify 
some punctilio of our own. A man may often impede a 
good movement by simply keeping aloof — by being the 
immovable wheel in the chariot. If so, the responsi- 
bility of obstructiveness rests upon him, and he is 
answerable for hindering the good that might have been 
done. It is a shallow affectation which says, " I am 
only one among many ; my action is of no consequence." 
Every individual ought to feel as Bishop Thirlvvall felt 
with regard to the disestablishment of the Irish Church : , 

F F 



434 DULCE DO MUM. 

He felt it his duty to consider his vote as if it were the 
casting vote, on which the whole issue depended* In in- 
terference with our neighbours there is a medium to be 
observed. Harmless, though somewhat annoying habits, 
may be overlooked. We need not be over-anxious to 
prevent our neighbour's cock from crowing ; but an effort 
ought to be made to abolish offensive and intolerant 
customs ; such, for instance, as the privileged path at 
Damascus, where Jews and Christians dared not walk.f 
Even that, however, should be done prudently and lov- 
ingly. How many law-suits about right of way, obstruc- 
tion of light, and invasion of privilege would never have 
taken place if men had been endued with a neighbourly 
spirit. Many people think that they have discharged 
the duties of neighbourhood when they have paid some 
subscriptions. This is a cheap and self-indulging method. 
There should be some personal exertion as well. If 
ladies and gentlemen occasionally visited their poor and 
sick neighbours, it would do good to both parties, filling 
the rich with a keen sense of their own advantages, and 
cheering the poor by such instances of sympathy and 
kindness. One might here say a word about waste of 
sympathy. I have seen an infant cheated with his own 
image in the glass, and, pitying the poor shadow, make 
it share his little meal, and weep for it ; and I have seen 
children of an elder growth cheated with the images of 
fiction, and wasting their sympathies on imaginary 
beings, while thousands of real men and women were 
left unpitied ; and comparing, I have judged the infant, 

* The Times, June 16, 1869. f Eothen, p. 389. 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD'. 435 

if not wiser, yet less guilty than the children of an older 
growth. 

Visiting the sick and needy is one of the best methods 
of condescending to men of low estate. Napoleon 
sometimes went to the hospitals attended by a splendid 
cortege in full uniform, preceded by the records of the 
regiments, in which the deeds of each were minutely 
entered, followed by servants in full livery, carrying 
large baskets of money. Nelson did the same 
thing with less pomp. After the battle of Copen- 
hagen he arrived at Yarmouth. The populace soon 
surrounded him, and the military were drawn up in 
the market-place ready to receive him, but making his 
way through the dust and the crowd and the clamour, he 
went straight to the Naval Hospital. " I went round the 
wards with him," says Dr. Gooch, " and was much inte- 
rested in observing his demeanour to the sailors; he 
stopped at every bed, and to every man he had some- 
thing kind and cheering to say. At length he stopped 
opposite a bed on which a sailor was lying, who had lost 
his right arm close to the shoulder joint, and the follow- 
ing short dialogue passed between them. Nelson — 
' Well, Jack, what's the matter with you ? ' Sailor — 'Lost 
my right arm, your honour.' Nelson paused,, looked 
down at his own empty sleeve, then at the sailor, and 
said, playfully, ' Well, Jack, then you and I are spoiled 
for fishermen — cheer up, my brave fellow ! ' And he 
passed briskly on to the next bed ; but these few words 
had a magical effect upon the poor fellow, for I saw his 
eyes sparkle with delight as Nelson turned away, and 
pursued his course through the wards." 



436 DULCE DO MUM. 

No doubt, delicate and sensitive people might find 
such offices very trying at first, but experience is a hard- 
ening agent, and it is well that it is so. The young 
minister, or district visitor, is often painfully susceptible 
at first. He allows every case of poverty or sickness or 
death to distress him over-much. Now, if this sensi- 
bility increased, it would unfit us for the work, and frus- 
trate its own intention. Therefore God in his providence 
has so arranged that our practice and experience should 
give us more "aptitude and less sensitiveness — more prac- 
tical kindness, and less unnerving sadness. So it is in 
other things. The unpractised experimenter allows a 
powerful gas to enter into his lungs, and almost suffocate 
him. The practised chymist performs the experiment, 
but inhales as little of the gas as may be. Be thou kind 
to thine utmost limit, but be not suffocated with distress. 

Of course there will always be inconveniences attend- 
ing this practical kindness — ingratitude, presumption, 
imposture, even disgust. One will learn to distrust the 
gratitude of anticipation, that gratitude which is given in 
order to receive as much again. At the same time, lest 
we should harden our hearts against our brethren, we 
should bear in mind our own unworthiness ; and then 
penitence for our own sin will be seen condensing into 
the dew of sympathy for others. Then we shall not 
withhold good from them to whom it is due ; for it is 
due to the sick and needy, to the fatherless and the 
widow \ and we are trustees for them. Still our giving 
should be judicious. Nothing is more weak and mis- 
chievous than indiscriminate charity. It is a premium 
on beggary, and makes it pay better than working. A 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 437 

mendicant followed the Emperor Maximilian, asking alms 
and calling him brother; " for," said he, "we are both 
descended from the same father, Adam." The emperor 
said : " Here, take this penny ; go to your other brethren, 
and, if every one of them gives as much, you will soon 
be richer than I am." * 

During the food riot in London, in 1772, a time of 
extreme distress, people of fashion, after masquerades 
and suppers, flung open the windows and pelted the 
eager hungry, thirsty, and howling crowd below with 
half-empty bottles and the remains of the supper. What 
a difference a century makes ! Now, instead of tanta- 
lising a half-starved crowd, munificent contributions 
would pour in for the relief of their distress, whether 
it were for our own immediate neighbourhood at home 
or for our neighbours across the Channel, or for a con- 
flagration at Chicago, or a famine in Persia. 

It is another bright feature in this century — the care 
and interest manifested in ragged and destitute children ; 
and they are to be found in every neighbourhood. 
Where an infant is without a guardian, a jurisdiction 
is vested in the Queen as parens fiatrice. to appoint one, 
and so the child becomes a ward in Chancery. We 
should bear this fact in mind, when we look at the 
thousands of ragged children who have parents that are 
not guardians. God, the great father of our country, 
with an universal jurisdiction, constitutes Christian men 
the guardians of the poor, neglected little ones. We may 
not therefore despise one of them ; for they are wards in 
the chancery of Heaven. 

* D'Aubigne, "Hist, of Ref.," ii. 88. 



438 DULCE DOMUM. 

Those street Arabs when caught and trained make 
excellent servants, artizans, soldiers, and sailors. The 
outcasts may be splendidly utilized ; and also in a higher 
sense, what is spiritual and Divine can be happily deve- 
loped; for a human soul, even in its roughest, rudest, 
coarsest state is still a precious substance, a block of 
jasper, from which the heavenly artificer can make a 
beauteous and polished vase to hold the living waters of 
God's grace. To do good casually and to study to do 
good are two different things. There can be no doubt 
but it is a far higher benevolence to set apart a little 
time now and then to form plans for the welfare of 
others, rather than to do good at hazard. With direct 
aims and systematic efforts we can accomplish twice as 
much as by random benevolence. It is as true of charity 
as of war — " Of small influence are our efforts abroad, 
unless there is consideration at home." * 

Men do not believe enough in the Nemesis of neglect, 
and yet God punishes sins of omission as much as sins 
of commission. The epidemic is the traveller of God. 
The sewer or the drain neglected develop the miasma- 
poison which the wind wafts from the mews of the poor 
into the drawing-rooms of the rich. Science demonstrates 
to our wondering minds the truth and the extent of the 
Scripture doctrine, " If one member suffer all the mem- 
bers suffer with it." The rich man's child would not 
have sickened and died, if his poor neighbour's drain 
had been trapped. That even educated men are not 
sufficiently alive to these evils, is manifest from the fact 

* "Parvi sunt foris arma, nisi est consilium domi." 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. -439 

that the General Board of Health, legislating for the 
health of the country, and directing the removal of 
nuisances, was itself located over nine dumb-wells choke- 
ful of putrid refuse. 

Neglect increases the neglected till it amounts to such 
a huge mass that men are afraid to cope with it ; and 
yet if every Christian were a physician of mercy, we 
should have little more than one patient apiece. 

A man of ability has power to injure or to improve a 
neighbourhood, and to give it a good or an evil repu- 
tation. Bishop Wilson of the Isle of Man, Fletcher of 
Madeley, Oberlin of the Ban de la Roche, Napoleon 
Bonaparte of Corsica are a few out of many instances 
where men have made the place of their birth or abode 
famous and renowned. It is still a greater success, if 
one can wipe away the prejudice which has attached to 
the neighbourhood. The glory and the wisdom of 
Christ effectually answered the question : " Can any 
good thing come out of Nazareth ? " 

Indeed the influence of one man on his neighbours is 
incalculable, but will always be proportional to the force 
of his character. Take the case of Gustavus Vasa ; 
situated in most unfavourable circumstances, an escaped 
prisoner, disguised as a peasant, working in the copper 
mines for a living and for concealment : entombed in 
those subterranean caverns, he meditated the dethrone- 
ment of a tyrant. He revealed himself to the peasantry ; 
he appeared to them a man of a higher nature. In a 
little time he converted these savages into warlike sol- 
diers, and with them conquered the tyrant and became 
king of the country of which he was the liberator. 



440 DULCE DOMUM. 

How a neighbourhood may be improved physically 
has been well shown in the Bedford Level, the tract of 
marshy district called the Fens. That extensive region 
was a mere morass. Through the efforts of the Bedford 
family the land was reclaimed, and is now converted 
into fertile pasture, grain, flax, and cole-seed lands. In 
some parts of the district the annual increase of pro- 
perty is now equal to the purchase-money paid for it 
sixty years ago. 

Howard, the philanthropist, furnished a noble proof 
of what a benevolent man can do to improve his neigh- 
bourhood. The vicinity where he lived was unhealthy 
and marshy, rendering ague prevalent. At different 
times he pulled down all the cottages on his estate and 
rebuilt them in a neat but simple style, paying particular 
attention to their preservation, as much as possible, from 
the dampness of the soil. Others, which were not his 
property before, he purchased and re-erected upon the 
same plan. To each of these he allotted a piece of 
garden ground sufficient to supply the family with 
potatoes and other vegetables, and generally ornamented 
them in front with a small fore-court, fenced off from the 
road Dy neat white palings enclosing a bed or two of 
simple flowers, with here and there a shrub or an ever- 
green. These comfortable dwellings, which he let at a 
rent of twenty or thirty shillings a year, he peopled with 
sober and industrious tenants, and over them he exer- 
cised the superintendence of a master and father com- 
bined. He furnished them with employment, assisted 
them in sickness and distress, and educated their chil- 
dren. In consequence of these exertions of Mr. Howard, 



DUTIES OF NEIGHBOURHOOD. 441 

aided by a friend and relative, Mr. Samuel Whitbread, 
Cardington, which seemed at one time to contain only 
abodes of poverty and wretchedness, soon became one 
of the neatest villages in the kingdom, exhibiting the 
pleasing appearance of competence and content. In- 
dustry and cleanliness were the two virtues which Mr. 
Howard sought to naturalise among his poor neigh- 
bours. It was his custom to visit the houses of his 
tenants now and then, conversing with them on the 
state of their affairs. He used to urge them to keep 
their houses clean and to swill the floors with water. 
After talking with the children, he would tell them at 
parting to be good boys and girls, and keep their faces 
and hands clean. He established schools for the chil- 
dren, and required them to attend some place of worship 
on Sundays. 

Henry, third Duke of Buccleuch, was one of the most 
estimable of that noble family. He had for his tutor and 
friend Dr. Adam Smith, and his beneficent talents were 
directed towards the improvement of his extensive estates 
in the south of Scotland. The amelioration of the soil, 
the planting of trees, the making of roads, the improving 
of the breed of sheep, and the social elevation of his 
numerous tenantry, uniformly engaged his attention. 
The present duke (Walter Francis) is also noted for local 
improvements. He created the deep-water harbour and 
port of Granton, near Edinburgh, at a cost of at least 
^320,000. 

Education can also do much for a neighbourhood, 
changing even its very aspect materially and morally. It 
is as if one, by judiciously planting trees, converted bleak 



442 DULCE DOMUM. 

hills and barren wastes into beautiful woods and shelter- 
ing forests. 

A man who thus does good to his neighbourhood will 
not be unrewarded. He will be respected while living 
and honoured when dead. The selfish man dies and 
nobody cares ; but the local manifestation at the death 
of a benevolent man is a genuine monument to his 
memory : the closed shutters, the suspended business, 
and the voluntary mourners, all grieving as if they said, 
We have lost not only a neighbour but a friend. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



SOCIETY. 



Society is the association of persons outside the family- 
circle for the purpose of conversation, entertainment, 
and friendly intercourse. Here it is chiefly used in this 
sense, although occasional reference is made to those 
associations which are formed for a definite object, and 
to that larger society which is co-extensive with the 
human family. 

All society is a confession of individual weakness, 
because it seeks to secure defence, government, and 
other advantages by the union of many. The modern 
societies, which have been instituted for benevolent 
objects, confess the same, for each society is a collection 
of scattered energies; and this condensed strength 
achieves what the individuals separately could never have 
accomplished. 

The desire of society is natural and healthy. One 
would not be alone. If we could be furnished as by a 
kind of magic wand with food and raiment, and all the 
other appliances of life, still we should not be happy 
alone, though engaged in study and learning. Such a one 
would fly from solitude and look out for a companion 



444 DULCE DO MUM. 

in his pursuits ; and would desire sometimes to teach 
and sometimes to learn, sometimes to listen and some- 
times to speak.* 

We covet, if it might be, to have a kind of society and 
fellowship even with all mankind, which thing Socrates 
intending to signify, professed himself a citizen, not of 
this or that commonwealth, but of the world, f In the 
promotion of universal intercourse, the superiority of 
present over past times especially appears. In ancient 
times they altered nature to prevent intercourse, in our 
times they alter nature to promote commerce and com- 
munication. Nitocris, queen of Babylon, to prevent her 
people from holding intercourse with the Medes, made 
the Euphrates, which before ran in a straight line, so 
winding that in its course it touched three times at the 
same village in Assyria, and voyagers on the river came 
three times to this village on three successive days.} 
She also raised on either bank of the river a mound, 
astonishing for its magnitude and height. But we cut 
through the Isthmus of Suez and tunnel through the Alps 
to promote commerce and travel, and intercourse and 
happiness. 

The Lacedemonians forbade all access of strangers 
into their coasts, on which account they were deservedly 
blamed, as being enemies to -that hospitality which, for 
common humanity's sake, all the nations on earth should 
embrace. 

Did God intend that the different languages should be 
so many partition- walls to keep man apart ? To a cer- 

* Cic, De Off., i. 44. f Hooker's " Ec. Pol.," p. 195. 

% Herod., i. 185. 



SOCIETY. 445 

tain extent probably, and to preserve all the interest of 
national character, national costume, and national cus- 
toms ; but not insuperably, because any man can learn 
several languages and so gain the keys, which admit him 
into the community of foreign nations. 

Nevertheless, society does not consist in multitude, for 
it is proverbial that a great city may be a great solitude ; 
and, on the other hand, a charming social circle may 
consist of a very limited number. 

A man may be naturally indisposed, or he may dis- 
qualify himself for social intercourse. Then the poet's 
words apply : 

" Society is no comfort 
To one not sociable." * 

Aristotle, who was a cautious and exact writer, does 
not hesitate to say that he who is incapable of society, 
or so complete in himself as not to want it, makes no 
part of a state, but is either a beast or a god.f Probably 
Pericles seemed to the Greek mind a godlike man. He 
did not appear in the streets, except when he went to the 
forum or senate. He declined the invitations of his 
friends, and all social entertainments and recreations. 
Even when he went to the marriage of his nephew, he 
stayed only a part of the time. He considered that the 
freedom of entertainments takes away all distinction of 
office, and that dignity is inconsistent with familiarity. 
This is Plutarch's explanation, but it may have been only 
part of the reason. Pericles may have made opportuni- 



* "Cymbeline," iv. 2. 

f Adst. Polit., i. 2 : rj 9r]piov r\ Otoe. 



446 DULCE DO MUM. 

ties of study by this retirement, and have found that his 
character and intellect were deepened by solitude ; but 
of course his was an exceptional case. Great is the privi- 
lege of imagination, which, overlooking the distance of 
time and space and character, can abstract some one 
quality common to two different men. It is thus that in 
juxtaposition with Pericles we place George Fox the 
Quaker. He broke off all connection with his friends 
and family, and never dwelt any time in one place, lest 
habit should beget new connections and depress the sub- 
limity of his aspirations. He frequently wandered in the 
woods, and passed whole days in hollow trees without 
any other companion than his Bible. 

This was the way to cultivate madness ; and it has 
since been proved, on a large scale, that solitary confine- 
ment changes the criminal into an idiot. In a less 
degree seclusion grows upon a man, and the more he 
withdraws from society the more he is apt to shun it ; 
and having nothing to counteract his solitary habits, he 
becomes day by day more singular and more uncouth. 

The first requisite of society is that it be fairly free, in 
order that it may act on all with a healthy influence. 
The moment any undue restriction is placed on social 
intercourse, it becomes less natural and less beneficial. 
The host, therefore, must beware of putting constraints 
on his company to gratify his own caprice ; for it is 
better to abstain from society than to restrain society. 
It is only in very rare cases that conditions should be 
imposed or accepted. Perhaps that was such an excep- 
tion, when the Duke of Marlborough (1826), having 
been forbid all sorts of excitement (or being himself 



SOCIETY. 447 

afraid of it), the invitations of the duchess were always 
accompanied with a promise that the person invited 
should not make the duke laugh.* 

One can praise in the highest terms the society of 
books. With them a man may be a companion of wise 
men, and become a wise man himself. Only it is not 
desirable that a man should give a marked preference to 
the society of books over that of his fellow-men, and it is 
still more unwise to magnify some author, and make his 
book our master. The saying, " A man of one book," f 
is a very doubtful compliment. It does not increase our 
respect for Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, to know that he 
was accustomed to read some portions of Tertullian's 
works daily ; and in calling for this author, to say, 
" Bring my master." J 

Society has its laws, unwritten indeed, but strict and 
inexorable ; and, so far as they are true and everlasting, 
they are engendered in heaven itself. § They are the laws 
for the reverent, just, and benevolent intercourse of man 
and man. 

Society not only has laws, but it can punish. 
When Catiline came to the temple of Jupiter Stator, 
there was not a senator who would sit by him ; they all 
left the bench he had taken. How could such an 
affront be borne with equanimity ? 

What we call the spirit of the times is really the spirit 

* Moore's "Life," v. in. 
f " Homo unius libri." J "Da magistrum." 

§ k)V VOfiOl TrpoicsivTaL 
vxiTToSeQ, ovpaviav di 
aiOspa TtKvcjQevTtg. — CEd. Tyr., 865. 



448 DULCE DO MUM. 

of society ; and the praise or blame which we award to a 
man ought often rather to be awarded to society.* The 
spirit of the age affects us just as the atmosphere does ; 
balmy and genial, or murky and depressing. Calvin 
would never have allowed Servetus to be put to death, 
had not the cruel and ignorant spirit of the age demanded 
the blood of heretics. In such an age and society, he is 
evil who does not evil.f The enlightened man, who 
denounces the bigotry of the age, is himself denounced 
and condemned. 

Sometimes a society is not a genuine formation, but, 
on the contrary, an unnatural union. Men are connected 
by links, some of gold, some of brass, some of glass — 
hollow and brittle. Sometimes they are united by 
mutual love, sometimes by common hatred. The early 
Christians loved one another. The Pagans and Arians 
united to banish Athanasius.J The Royalists and 
Puritans would not amalgamate. The ancient peers of 
England would not sit with the new-made peers of Crom- 
well. No social intercourse was maintained between 
the parties ; no marriages or alliances contracted. The 
Royalists, though oppressed, harassed, persecuted, dis- 
dained all affinity with their masters. The more they 
were reduced to subjection, the greater superiority did 
they affect above those who had gained the ascendancy 
over them. 

An individual may be a good man and an indifferent 

* "Itaque ista laus non est hominis, sed temporum." — Cic, De 
Off., iii. 31. 

t KaKvQ 8' 6 fiij ti 8pwv kcikov. — Eurip. Hecuba, 608. j 

X Mosheim, 132. 



SOCIETY. 449 

citizen : true and upright in private, kind and affectionate 
in his family, and yet forgetful of his duties as a member 
of a larger society. They are deserters from the army of 
progress and reform, and leave to others to fight against 
abuses and obstructions, and to win the battles of suffer- 
ing humanity. 

Social intercourse is such a manifest boon, that vin- 
dictive men have deprived their enemies of it when they 
could. It was thus that society was denied to Charles I. 
Friends, relations, whom he passionately loved, were 
placed at a distance; his correspondence was cut off. 
The king afterwards showed to Sir Philip Warwick a 
decrepit old man, who, he said, was employed to kindle 
his fire, and was the best company he enjoyed during 
several months that this rigorous confinement lasted. 

That incident alone might suggest to us the propriety 
of thankfulness for the blessings of society. We may 
not be privileged to enter into the most brilliant and 
beautiful circles, but still we ought to be thankful if our 
society is tolerable and cheering. Think of the society 
to which some are doomed ; to the company of the rest- 
less, where there is no repose, and where one sighs for a 
moment's relief; to the society of the sick, the disfigured, 
the diseased, the mutilated, where one is shocked with 
repulsive sights by day, and wakened by agonizing 
screams at night. 

Foremost among the advantages of society is the 
emulation and competition excited. What senior 
wrangler would have ever in solitude attained to the 
same knowledge in the same time as he does in his 
university career. As iron sharpeneth iron, so does the 
G G 



450 DULCE DO MUM. 

presence of one wrangler stimulate the industry of his 
fellow. 

Not only does the individual suffer for want of social 
stimulus, but even domestic life becomes stagnant unless 
it is aerated by the intercourse of society. The very arts 
and conveniences of life are owing to society. In a 
state of isolation and solitariness we should relapse into 
barbarism. It also has a powerful influence over the 
religious spirit. Where men meet to pray and to exhort 
each other, and that in a social, friendly, and unformal 
way, there religion has generally developed into an 
earnest and enthusiastic form through the electric power 
of sympathy. 

It is to prevent ourselves from crystallizing into gro- 
tesque angularities that we should go into general society 
occasionally ; and if you are so happy as to have a wise 
and intelligent friend, " Get thee betimes unto him, and 
let thy foot wear the steps of his door." But if the 
society is attractive yet corrupting, then shun it, for 

" 'Tis meet 
That noble minds keep ever with their like, 
For who so firm that cannot be seduc'd ? " * 

Society counteracts eccentricity, for it shakes our dog- 
matism, it enlarges our views, it tones down our exagge- 
rations, it breaks up a prejudice in the process of crystal- 
lization ; and the man gradually perceives, that in form- 
ing an exclusive taste he would become like a silkworm 
limited to mulberry leaves. 

* Julius Caesar, i. 2. 



SOCIETY. 451 

At the same time, if a man imbibes good imperceptibly, 
he may likewise imbibe evil imperceptibly. Sir Peter 
Lely made it a rule never to look at a bad picture, 
having found by experience that whenever he did so, 
his pencil took a tint from it. This indicates what 
will be the result, if any one associates with the low 
and vicious. The lesson of the artist is taught by a 
humbler animal, for even fowls roost on high to escape 
the vermin. 

Of all the requisites for benefiting society or profiting 
from it, none is more essential than forbearance and 
tolerance. A sense of our own infirmities makes us kind 
and forbearing to others ; and we should never be an- 
noyed because we have in our society persons of different 
views and temperaments. The human face is kept in 
health and beauty by the action of antagonistic muscles ; 
and if one set of these should be nullified the others 
would exert their power unduly, and produce all the dis- 
tortions of paralysis. This eyelet admits a luminous ray 
on the philosophy of antagonism. 

Modesty is a great recommendation in society, for it is 
a mark of respect to others. Besides, a man of modest 
merit does not disappoint his friends, and he continually 
surprises strangers by the unheralded outcomings of his 
talent and goodness. This must have been the case with 
William the Silent in his coarse dress. No external sign 
of degree could have discovered the inequality of his 
wealth or estate from a multitude of burgesses by whom 
he was surrounded. Nevertheless, upon conversing with 
him, "there was an outward passage of inward 'great- 
ness." 



45 2 DULCE D OMUM. 

Modesty and humility preserve from ridicule. With- 
out these restraining qualities people easily pass into 
affectation and make a parade of plate, furniture, and 
testimonials. Amidst this parade a deficient service or 
defective supplies are sometimes painfully manifest ; the 
same articles doing double duty. In spite of this, the 
clumsy attempts at etiquette, the feverish efforts to dis- 
guise failures, the cool effrontery that ignores solecisms, 
and the transparent impositions throughout are full of 
comedy.* Constantly it is seen how self-seeking is de- 
structive, and a suicide. A man, full of himself and in- 
flated with vanity, goes into society, his extravagant 
hopes of attention are disappointed, his conceit collapses, 
his envy is excited, and he comes away disgusted. How 
admirable and how minute is the divine government that 
can reach to the minor acts of life, and make a vice or a 
fault self-punishing ! \ The case of the Earl of Leicester 
is very instructive in this way, as showing how his own 
character became tarnished, while trying to tarnish others. 
The enthusiasm which greeted him on his arrival in the 
Netherlands, " as if he had been a Messiah," had very 
rapidly dwindled away, as his personal character became 
known. He poured forth endless quantities of venom, 
enough to destroy the characters of a hundred honest 
men. No man made so many enemies. He was an 
excellent hater, and few men have been more cordially 
hated in return. % 

There are many destructives of society, to which we 

* "Nullos his mallem ludos spectasse." — Hor. Sat., ii. 8, 79. 

f " Tout se paie." 

% Motley's "United Netherlands," ii. pp. 112, 139, and 151. 



SOCIETY. 453 

shall do well to give heed. It might scarcely be sus- 
pected that domestic affection was antagonistic to so- 
ciety, but it often is. When one is vehemently attached 
to home, and finds abundant entertainment in his own 
family circle, he is apt to forget society, and the duties of 
society, and the interests of society. In another way the 
gluttonous man degrades society, and degrades himself. 
He is only swift, when it is to a good dinner, as if he 
were gasteropodous. The selfish man disturbs society 
because he tries to lessen or to supplant the very friends 
who have introduced him. The flatterer weakens society 
by his adulation, and he is guilty of a double wrong. 
He cajoles the host and makes the other guests seem 
lukewarm, when they do not choose to compete in 
flattery. 

All the different outcomings of ill temper are preju- 
dicial to social intercourse, and even to society itself. 
Sensitiveness, excitability, fretfulness, testiness, peevish- 
ness, tartness, huffiness, irascibility, sneering, and all the 
host of them destroy sociality and alienate society. 
Thucydides, after saying that Pausanias made himself 
difficult of access and indulged a violent temper, adds : 
" This was none of the least reasons why the confede- 
rates went over from him to the Athenians." 

Ridicule has a powerful tendency to relax the bonds of 
society. The rustic showed a shrewd knowledge of social 
infirmity, when he stayed to the last for fear of being 
spoken against.* The gift of mimicry dare scarcely be 

* One might fancy that he had read the line of Persius (i. 62) : — 
" posticae occurrite sannse ! " 



454 DULCE DO MUM. 

called a blessing. When Lord Camden was " invited by 
my friends to witness my powers of imitation, he at once 
refused, saying slightingly for me to hear it, ' It is but a 
vulgar accomplishment.' " This cured Wilberforce of the 
dangerous art. He had also the gift of sarcasm, but in 
after-life he gave it up. 

Subtle, aerial, poisonous germs float in the atmosphere 
of irreligious society. These invisible effluvia reach the 
soul through the eye and the ear, and infect it — not 
immediately, it may be. The evil may be latent awhile, 
for poisons have a period of incubation. Now, people 
may be living in a region of licentious thought, and yet 
be unconscious of receiving any detriment ; and this is 
exactly the case with those who breathe a vitiated atmo- 
sphere. They are unconscious of its foulness, whereas 
the visitor from the fresh air feels it at once. They 
disbelieve in the poisonous germs of vice, and continue 
to inhale them, so that the mischief goes on, and is 
increased by being overlooked.* 

Sometimes society vitiates the individual, and some- 
times the individual vitiates society. Suppose one to 
introduce venomous reptiles and loathsome insects into 
an island where they had never been before, how vile 
and wicked would he be; yet he who introduces vice 
and misery into a circle of innocence is more vile and 
wicked still. The Scripture rule is safe and kind — 
" Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of dark- 
ness, but rather reprove them ; " only do not find fault 



* "Nascentem non credendo corroboraverunt." — Cic. in Catil. 
i. 12. 



SOCIETY. 455 

upon every slight occasion, for that breeds hatred. It is 
a fallacy to fancy that you are altogether superior to those 
vicious companions, and therefore not likely to be influ- 
enced by them. It has been pointed out that the Anglo- 
Saxon colonists have been greatly influenced by the Red 
men in the constitution of their states, in polygamy, in 
smoking, and in counting life cheap.* The superior is 
more apt to imbibe the vices of the inferior than the 
inferior is to imitate the excellences of the superior. 

The society of the wicked is dangerous, because it is 
contagious. Those who were mingled among the 
heathen learned their works, f Can a man visit a small- 
pox patient without danger ? Does he think that there 
is no moral virus — that there is no taint in vice ? How- 
ever pure one may be himself, yet if he comes into con- 
tact with one polluted he must contract defilement. 

Syrian Orontes has long since flowed into the Tiber, 
and brought with it its language and morals ; % and since 
then the Tiber has flowed into the Seine, and the Seine 
into the Thames. 

Not only are virtue and vice contagious, but even 
one's bearing, tone, and manner. It is certain that either 
wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught as men take 
diseases, one of another : therefore, let men take heed of 
their company. § 



* Hepworth Dixon's "New America." So it was with the 
Englishry in Ireland, in spite of statutes, fines, and forfeitures 
imposed by the Government against amalgamation. — Froude's 
"Hist, of England," c. 8. 

t Ps. cvi. 35. \ Juv. Sat., hi. 62. 

§ "King Henry IV.," pt. 2, v. 1. 



456 DULCE DOMUM. 

But we must distinguish between the association which 
is necessary and the association which is voluntary. 
When one deliberately chooses evil company, and suffers 
for it even to ruin, people are not inclined to pity him. 
Who will pity a charmer that is bitten with a serpent, or 
any such as come near wild beasts ? * If they come 
after you, then it is your duty and safety to repel them, 
and to repel them unequivocally. How much importu- 
nity does a man get rid of, how many parasites does he 
throw off, when his character is sheathed with decision ! 
Shell animals cannot fasten on coppered ships, nor can 
the sea-worms puncture them. 

Society abounds with doubtful characters, and life is 
full of masquerades. Some are so nearly allied to the 
Church and the world at the same time, that you can 
scarcely tell to which they belong ; like the Lepidosiren, 
which at one time is in the water, and another time in 
the mud ; which has the characteristics both of a reptile 
and a fish ; and, indeed, it is hard to say which of the 
twain it is. In society there are many men in masks ; 
many with a " cynical cordiality ; " many with an obtru- 
sive religion. Some, like Brother Prince, who, when 
they proposed at a baptism to drink the child's health, 
made a counter-proposal to pray for the child's soul. 
Beware, beware ! 

When worldly people invite a Christian to their 
gatherings, and love his company, they must either cease 
to be worldly, or he cease to be true. The salt of the 
Gospel will not flavour the wine of Mammon, and he 

* Ecclus. xii. T3. 



SOCIETY. 457 

who is a favourite in such society should make a memo- 
randum that the friendship of the world is enmity with 
God. A man of saintly character joins in sinful gaiety, 
yet not entirely, for his heart condemns him. His joy is 
the joy of the paralytic, who laughs with only half his 
face. 

The mere inquisitive, talkative gossip should be dis- 
couraged, because he tends to degrade and demoralise 
society, and is equally dangerous to friends and foes. 
No one need live long without verifying the observation 
of Horace : * " Avoid an inquisitive man, for he is always 
a talker." 

The pliable man adapts himself to all society ; he is 
like water, that takes the shape of every vessel into which 
it enters — round, square, triangular ; it is all one to him. 
His opinion adds no weight, his faith adds no evidence. 

We should neither be too anxious to go into society, 
nor care to stay too long in it. " No man safely goes 
abroad but he who is willing to stay at home." \ And 
however agreeable society may be, it must not be 
strained by too long indulgence. Every wise and obser- 
vant man has invisible feelers, which indicate when his 
presence has ceased to delight, and remind him of the 
text ; " Withdraw thy foot from thy neighbour's house, lest 
he be weary of thee, and so hate theeP \ 

It must be acknowledged that the attachments of 
society are generally feeble ; and this is owing to distrust. 
Men are so apt to suspect each other of ulterior ends, 



* Hor. Ep., i. 18, 69. f Thomas a Kempis. 

X Prov. xxv. 17. 



458 DULCE DO MUM. 

and to impute wrong motives, that they cannot entertain 
confidence, which is the chief cement of society. 
Charles II. had no strong feeling of gratitude or friend- 
ship. He believed that his ministers and courtiers had 
no motive in serving him but self-interest. Confidence 
is the golden hoop which binds society together. Pain- 
ful silence, and reserve and stiffness, destroy confidence ; 
geniality and frankness produce it. The pimpernel, and 
other flowers, never open their leaves without the 
stimulus of sunlight ; and in the same way the " smile- 
maker " opens our hearts to trust in him. His radiant 
face darts beams of joy into our hearts, and we love to 
look upon his cheerful countenance. Great even is the 
power of an enemy over an enemy by the magic of per- 
sonal intercourse. Saint Aldegonde was signally im- 
pressed by the language of Alexander, Prince of Parma, 
and thoroughly fascinated, magnetised, as it were, by his 
character. Even the rough like kindness, and the bear is 
fond of honey. It is owing to this strong principle of 
human nature that men are caught and kept by glutinous 
flattery. In youth our feelings of trust are easily won ; 
but experience soon acts as an astringent to check the 
flux of confidence. Then we are apt to become sus- 
picious and distrustful. This also has its season, and 
confidence revives : — 

" The old man clogs our earliest years, 
And simple childhood comes the last." 

It is astonishing what small things recommend or pre- 
judice in society. One so judicious as Queen Elizabeth 
showed the greatest regard for externals. To lose a 



SOCIETY. 459 

tooth had been known to cause the loss of a place. An 
excellent leg helped Sir Christopher Hatton into the 
chancellorship. An amusing disposition will compensate 
for the lack of higher qualities, just as the Barbary ape 
enjoys a certain measure of protection from fire-arms in 
return for the amusement afforded by its manners. 
Though frankness is a prime requisite in society, yet the 
art of concealing is very useful, only with this distinction, 
that charity covers evil, but envy covers good. 

Deep, however, is the sympathy and great the hope for 
any one aspiring after better things, but who, by birth 
and other circumstances of destiny, has his lot among 
the wicked. Let him take courage : — 

"The strawberry grows underneath the nettle ; 
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best 
Neighbour' d by fruit of baser quality." * 

Two gigantic obstacles to social union are religion and 
caste. We send missionaries to India to undermine 
caste, and at the same time we cherish at home a subtler 
and more refined species of the same genus. One Chris- 
tian family living in the same square in England will 
charge the nursemaids not to allow their children to 
speak to the children of their next-door neighbour, be- 
cause he is connected with trade. It is the same spirit 
in India, only intensified. No Hindu would have any 
communication with a Pariah. If a Pariah touched a 
warrior of high caste, he might be killed instantly for 
taking such a liberty. If the shadow of a Pariah passed 

* "King Henry V.," i. I. 



460 DULCE DO MUM. 

over some sorts of food, the food was held to be 
defiled, 

It is pleasant to see the social element coming out in 
St. Paul. He was a good sample of Christianity, and it 
is wonderful to think how Christianity developed out of 
Judaism, how a system so liberal, large-hearted, and 
catholic, developed out of one so exclusive, narrow, and 
clannish. Who that considers the affectionate expres- 
sions and the social feelings of St. Paul, would hesitate 
to join in the eulogium pronounced on him by St. Chry- 
sostom : " His heart beats for all the world" ? 

Primitive Christianity was eminently social and eager 
for increase. It seized on every believing mind, on every 
hopeful character with a delightful claim of appropria- 
tion : — " Thou shall be ours." * 

Continuing like-minded, it ought to have broken down 
all partition walls, and shown men that they were all one 
family, but it has divided them by creeds, and tests, and 
shibboleths. This has been done out of a respectable 
feeling. Men have fancied they had the truth, and they 
wished to enforce it upon others. But there is no mono- 
poly of truth, and there is no human infallibility. As 
this fact prevails — and it undoubtedly will — there will 
grow up under its shadow a plant of renown, the prin- 
ciple of toleration and respect for the opinions of others. 
Then the artificial hedges which have separated children 
of the same Father, and brethren of the same Saviour, 
will be broken down. 

Still, while we eschew narrowness of mind and isola- 

* "Noster ens." 



SOCIETY. 461 

tion, we must also guard against a preternatural enlarge- 
ment of our catholicity ; for the Church, as well as the 
body, might suffer from aneurism. 

Men often speculate rashly on public opinion and 
public feeling, and fancy they can gauge it to a nicety, 
whereas it is not easy in a great city even to tell which 
way the wind is blowing, there are so many gusts and 
draughts; but it does seem as if liberty in religion is 
coming like a rushing, mighty wind. 

Both the Church and Nonconformity exist by the per- 
mission of God. No doubt they have divided neigh- 
bourhoods ; but we may cherish the hope that these 
great Christian streams, which, after the manner of 
Asiatic rivers, are flowing in almost parallel directions, 
may also, like them, unite before they enter the ocean — of 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



LEAVING HOME.' 



One of the most touching events in the domestic annals 
is when a member of the family leaves home, and goes 
to commence the business of life in another place. He 
departs amidst great expectations and lively hopes; 
amidst genuine tears and irrepressible misgivings. Will 
he succeed, or will he fail ? Will he come back, radiant 
with honour, marching up the great thoroughfare? or 
will he come back, shrinking with disgrace, and stealing 
down some narrow alley, to the house where he was 
born ? Or will he never come back again ? Crowds of 
such thoughts, feelings, instincts, and presentiments, are 
all at work, and produce a tumultuous sensation. 

One of the most pathetic passages in the history of 
Greece is the description by Thucydides of the Athenian 
expedition leaving home to go to Syracuse : an expedi- 
tion which was disastrous for itself, and brought about 
the ruin of Athens : — The Athenians went down to the 
Piraeus one morning, as soon as it was light, and pro- 
ceeded to man their ships for the purpose of putting out 
to sea. The whole multitude, so to speak, that was in 
the city, both of citizens and foreigners, went down with 



LEAVING HOME. 463 

them. The natives accompanied friends, kinsmen, and 
sons ; and went at once, with hope and lamentations ; 
with hope that they would attain what they went for; 
but with lamentations, as doubtful if they should ever 
again see their friends.* When the ships were manned, 
and everything put on board, silence was proclaimed by 
trumpet, and they offered the prayers which are usual 
before putting out to sea ; not ship by ship singly, but all 
together, responding to a herald. They were joined also 
in their prayers by the rest of the multitude on shore. 
When they had sung their hymn, and finished their 
libations, they weighed anchor, f 

This departure was not more admirable for its deep 
feeling than for its prayerful spirit ; and the description 
has been reproduced as highly suggestive to any individual 
leaving home. Most useful will it be, if it imparts a 
reverent spirit, if it tempers exaggerated hopes, and sug- 
gests the possibility of adversity.]: It will also be most 
useful to parents, if it moderates their desire for the mere 
success of their children in this life, and makes them 
think of their higher and immortal interests. The words 
of Electra ought especially to come home to every 
mother. As she holds the urn, containing her son's 
ashes, she says, " Now, I bear thee in my hands, a 
nothing ; but from thy home, my boy, I sent thee 
blooming forth." § 

How different are the circumstances in which men 
leave home ! Jacob committed an act of domestic im- 

* Thucyd., vi. 30. f Ibid., c. 32. 

J "O nimium coelo et pelago confise sereno." — ^En., v. 870. 

§ Soph. Electra, 1129. 



4<>4 DULCE DO MUM. 

position and treachery, and was obliged to abscond from 
home. Joseph, on account of childish vanity, was hated 
and sold away from home. Moses, on account of homi- 
cide, was compelled to flee from home. It is a matter 
for no small thankfulness, if one leaves without any 
shameful compulsion, but with a free will, for a good 
purpose, and with the consent and blessing of parents. 

When the young leave home, they do not leave home- 
influence. They carry it with them ; and in distant 
lands they often ask themselves, " What will they say at 
home ? " It is most desirable to cherish this domestic 
feeling, and to strengthen it by relics, by mementoes, 
by pictures and] photographs of the loved ones and 
the loved places. Who but knows Cowper's beautiful 
lines to his mother's portrait ? There is no superstition 
in believing that such an image would deter from evil 
and stimulate to good.* 

On leaving the parental roof, a sense of responsibility 
begins to dawn upon us. Hitherto we have had few 
liabilities ; but on going to a new place and a new 
sphere one may well feel a sense of awe, for he knows 
not what undeveloped seeds of destiny he may sow there 
for himself and others. 

It is not good to keep a child too much secluded at 
home, for then the transition into the company of 
strangers is too sudden and too violent. The drudgery, 
toils, trials, and disappointments of school have a steady- 
ing effect ; they are the very ballast of life ; whereas he 



* " Imago avi tui : quae quidem te a tan to scelere etiam 

mutarevocare debuit." — Cic. in Catil., iii. 5. (Address to Lentulus.) 



LEAVING HOME. 465 

who is kept from school and educated privately, has no 
experience, and little knowledge of what awaits him. 
His fanciful anticipation will be as unlike as possible to 
the reality.* Very susceptible, it may be, and very im- 
pressible, he now comes to the turning-point in his life. 
Some companion that lodges by him, some remark over- 
heard, some casual sight, impresses him, and gives a 
bent to all his after-life. A young man going to college, 
for instance, is thrown into strange company, associates 
with them for a few years, and then they separate, never 
as a body to meet again. Happy is it for them, if they 
can act upon the student-motto in the time of Krum- 
macher : Fresh, open, gladsome, pious. \ At that early 
time they should strive to have a character of their own, 
and not be influenced by every new-comer, or by the 
last visitor; for a man who is serious or frivolous, ac- 
cording as he is prompted by the present company, has 
as little principle as a flute, which indifferently guides 
the motions of the dance, or expresses the melody of 
sacred hymns. 

The young are sheltered from temptation within the 
magic circle of home — then they are exposed to the 
attractions and temptations of the world. It is a painful 
feature of human nature that those already corrupted 
make deliberate attempts to corrupt others. A little 
angel comes to Paris. After six weeks' residence his 
eye is tarnished, his manner bold and loose — he is a 



* " rerumque ignarus imagine gaudet." 

2En., viii. 730. 

+ " Frisch, frei, frohlich, fromm." 
H H 



4&6 DULCE DO MUM. 

fallen angel.* It is so much easier to lead to evil than 
to good. The result of observation among convicts is, 
that the woman who is trying to amend is always led 
away by the woman who remains defiant. 

The young man should be cautioned on his entrance 
into the world that there are many stray guides,! guides 
that sometimes unwittingly, sometimes deliberately, will 
lead him astray. One would fain hope that many of the 
ancient vices, like some of the ancient diseases, had be- 
come obsolete, and that there were now no successors 
of Catiline, corrupting the youth by indulging their 
desires in every kind of voluptuous pleasure \ but it is 
said that this corrupt species is not extinct. 

When once the process of corruption has begun, the 
youth begins to descend by a moral degradation that 
brings him to depths from which, in better days, he 
would have shrunk back with horror. He has come to 
like the slums ; and, indeed, it is no more strange that 
the vicious should be fond of low life than that the rep- 
tile should be fond of slimy clay — each after his kind. 

It is a delicate task to speak without offence of love 
and its difficulties.} It is a subject which requires nice 
handling ; but it is perilous for parents to ignore it, and 
to send out children into the world unadmonished and 



* " Un ange dechu." — " Allies : Journal in France," p. 
f j3poTu>v akai. — iEsch. Agam., 195. 

% XaXtTrov to firj <pi\rjaar 
Xa\s7rbv tie kou (piXrjcrai' 
XaXeirwTfpov 8k iravruv, 
'AwoTvyx&veiv <pt\ovvTa. 

Anacreon. 



LEAVING HOME. 467 

unwarned regarding the most powerful and the most 
destructive element in their nature. It is unwise to say, 
Do not love. It is foolish to expect that they will not 
love. Love is one of God's best gifts when it is under- 
stood, when it is not in excess, and when it is wisely 
managed. When it is allowed to grow up wild, when it. 
is not restrained, when it is vagrant, it is one of the 
greatest curses of humanity. It then absorbs the mind, 
drains the strength, bewitches the judgment, and corrupts 
the heart. It ever perpetuates and reproduces* itself, 
and all this rapidly ; and the youth in his teens is like a 
grape that is putrid before it is ripe.f One of the worst 
wishes a man could devise is wrapt up in the words — 
" May Venus thus visit my foes" \ 

The tempters without are seconded by the traitors 
within. Our desires are deceitful ; they are like coloured 
glass, which gives to objects a false appearance, and 
makes them seem different from what they really are. 
They seem so sweet and pleasant and charming, says 
the infatuated sensualist ; they must be right. How many 
have been led away by a desire for drink ! They looked 
upon the wine when it was red, when it changed its 
colour in the cup ; but, at the last, they found that it 
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder. How 
many are led away by a desire for food, for whose 
palate the sea is dragged, the orchard stripped, and the 
thicket pierced with shots ! and yet the glutton pays a 

* 'O d' u)6v ioriv cLKfuqv. — Anacreon. 

f "Turn vinum, priusquam coactum 'st pendet putidum." — Trin., 
ii. 4, 125.^ 

% Totad ' iir ' ixQpovq rovg tfxovg e\6oi TLvirpLc. — Prom. Vinct., 864. 



468 DULCE DO MUM. 

heavy tax in the shape of fevers and dyspepsia. How 
many are led away by a desire for beauty, for a little 
white and red, for a rosy cheek or a coral lip ; and yet 
how soon do they discover that " favour is deceitful, and 
beauty is vain " ! How many are led away by a desire 
for gay society, the lascivious dance and the bacchanal 
song, the equivocal joke and the scoffing laugh, although 
they experience that " the end of that mirth is heaviness " ! 
Once more — how many are led away by a desire for 
money, labouring to be rich ! and yet, when they die, of 
what use to them are heaps of yellow gold ? 

Some go into temptation — to others temptation comes ; 
and these make a great merit of the distinction that they 
did not go in quest of evil. Still, this consideration 
ought to be well pondered — if your temptations were 
billeted on you by circumstance, yet were they not affec- 
tionately entertained by adoption? The young should 
be well aware of the fatal delusion which lurks in only 
once. The sweet sin that is indulged in once is almost 
certain to be indulged in twice, and if twice, then two 
hundred times. Safety lies in resisting the very first be- 
ginnings of evil. Sin is a wedge, of which the thin end 
is pleasure. Repeated indulgences, like the strokes of a 
hammer, drive it downwards, till it rends asunder the 
very moral being of man. One of the best remedies 
against temptation is a taste for literature, science, art' 
and, above all, religion. When one is earnestly seeking 
for these precious things, he hears not the siren's voice. 
It is as true in the moral and intellectual as it is in the 
natural world, that pearl-divers are often deaf. 

God's purpose in remorse is very manifest and very 



LEAVING HOME. 469 

benevolent. It is to give an immediate hint of the evil 
of sin, and to act as a warning against its indulgence. 
Few pass from the island of virtue to the continent of 
vice without sailing over a sea of sorrow. It must be 
admitted that, in numberless cases, the warning is not 
effective. One man rushes after another, seeking plea- 
sure and meeting death, undeterred by ten thousand 
examples — foolish as the insect that goes into the poisoned 
bottle full of dead wasps hanging on the orchard wall. 
The experience of others costs us nothing, and therefore 
is held cheap ; but God has provided us with abundant 
examples, so that we are without excuse. Over the dan- 
gerous rock of impurity has He not set Samson, and 
David, and Solomon, as buoys, which, floating, might 
indicate the perils underneath ? 

One reason why examples are unimpressive is because 
we do not see the death-beds of the young. The death 
of the profligate, like the execution of the criminal, is in 
private. From shops and counting-houses, from theatres 
and casinos, the stricken youth retire to their private 
lodging or their remote country home to die. God, the 
greatest dramatist, draws the curtain over the tragic end 
of vice. * 

Many of the evils which befall us in the outset of life 
arise from want of consideration and forethought. An- 
ticipations are then all sanguine, and there is too little of 
the element of fear. Just as, when one standing on a 
height and plunging into the water, fractures his head 

* "Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet, 

Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus." 

Hor., Ars. Poet., 185. 



47o DULCE DO MUM. 

upon a sunken rock; so, when a man dives into sin, he 
little thinks what may be the end thereof. To be on the 
out-look for hidden danger is the part of cautious wis- 
dom. Every one who embarks on an evil course ought 
to feel as if an iceberg covered with fog was approaching 
invisibly. Another source of danger is the self-sufficiency 
of youth. He coats the glass, and instead of seeing 
objects through it, he sees only himself in it. " Though 
others fall, yet shall not I. I can fight, and I can con- 
quer." Young man, beware of the first temptation ; for 
if you commit yourself, you will find that you have 
engaged in a war, of which you will be heartily tired 
before the end, and in which you will have to struggle 
with all your might, not so much for victory as for 
safety. 

It is curious how some are fascinated by the excite- 
ment of peril and hazard; but the young should be 
entreated by all that is good and holy, by the love of 
self-preservation, and by the hope of usefulness, not to 
tamper with vices, for, like electric animals, they com- 
municate a shock when they are touched, and then there 
arises a numbness which creeps over the whole man ; the 
religious vitality departs, and a paralytic secularism 
remains behind. 

It cannot be doubted but testimonials are often very 
hurtful. They are often full of indiscreet and exaggerated 
praise. Sometimes a boy from a provincial town trea- 
sures up testimonials more flattering than the certificates 
of a Senior Wrangler or Double-first. Raw lads are by 
this means intoxicated and become presumptuous. It is 
far more wholesome to feel that a man's works are his 



LEAVING HOME. 471 

best testimonials. Such are those of God ; for he has 
testimonials from the feathered songsters, from the dis- 
porting insects, from the finny tribes, from the geologic 
rocks below, and from the starry heavens above. 

Those who are lax form a God in their own image and 
after their own likeness. They disbelieve in divine 
punishment, and fancy that God will not be strict to 
mark what is done amiss. Yet God's vengeance will 
carry conviction with it. On every stone from his sling 
may be found this device : The recompence of error which 
was meet. The study of physiology is very helpful in 
this way, showing the minute punishments which follow 
the minute infringements of natural laws. There is ever 
a sequence between transgression and punishment — a 
warning often mercifully intervening; by which we 
believe God to be most true and immutable ; for when 
we have seen the lightning of his threatenings we may be 
sure that we shall hear the thunder of his performance. 

Thousands are allured to sin, and encouraged to go 
on in it by the delusion of concealment. They hope 
that their case is exceptional, and that their sin will not 
find them out. We can easily imagine with what feelings 
a man would regard the first beginning of leprosy on his 
body ; how he would try to conceal it ; how he would 
enamel the eruption. And it is worth noting that a great 
sin is not developed suddenly. Some evil desire has 
been inflaming and irritating the soul : hence comes the 
abscess that after a time bursts and scandalizes. 

Then it is pitiable to see a man excusing himself, 
putting himself right, volunteering explanations, and all 
m vain ; for sin is as a blot on a valuable manuscript, 



472 DULCE DOMUM. 

and an apology is like an erasure, ever after inducing 
suspicion. 

Men cannot separate the shame from the sin any more 
than they can separate the shadow from the substance, 
and happy is the youth that goes out into the world with 
this belief. God is ever preparing a dress for the trans- 
gressor, and it is now weaving on the mighty loom of 
Providence. Of what stuff is it made ? It is made of 
shame. And when the sinner puts it on, how all his 
enemies will laugh ! There comes a time when the evil 
habit has gained the mastery. Then the idea of Hopeless 
is delineated by an unseen hand upon his countenance. 
And yet the youth may have begun life sincerely and 
hopefully, but after rising transparently and running 
powerfully for a time, he imitates an Abyssinian river and 
loses himself in the sands. 

The young must therefore excuse us if we address 
them in the language of earnest expostulation, and say : 
Beware of the ruthless current of iniquity ; for it will bear 
you down irresistibly. If you think that you will be able 
at any time to arrest yourself by means of resolutions 
and reformations, you are no wiser than the poor crab 
that is tossed by the waves, and grasps at the faithless 
sand to preserve itself from being carried away. 

There is an honest and a wise ambition. The manly 
desire to be useful and to gain esteem is an honourable 
ambition; the earnest and persevering toil is a wise 
ambition; but when a man indulges in day-dreams, 
dreams of the future for which he neglects the realities of 
the present, then this Alnaschar must not be surprised if 
the wheel of retribution comes and breaks his fragile 



LEAVING HOME. 473 

wares. It is well to have a strong conviction that merit 
is generally recognised and rewarded. Every one who 
acts on this principle increases the aggregate of national 
and independent character, and no one who is embued 
with this spirit will strive to rise by solicitation and 
hanging on, nor copy the parrot's method and climb up 
by the beak. 

No doubt people sometimes attain to elevated posi- 
tions by this scansorial method, but that elevation makes 
their meanness all the more conspicuous. Let Count von 
Briihl serve as an example. Owing to his tact and winning 
address he became prime minister to Augustus III., King 
of Poland. Briihl would follow the prince, as he strolled 
about smoking, without speaking a word for a whole day; 
or, when his majesty lazily inquired, " Briihl, have you 
any money for me ?" " Yes, sire," would be the constant 
reply. A youth without emulation is certainly a defective 
character, and lacks one of the noblest stimulants. It is 
curious that every one knows the famous saying of The- 
mistocles, " The trophies of Miltiades will not suffer me 
to sleep," but few know how Julius Caesar burst into tears, 
and on his friends wondering, said, " Do you think I 
have not sufficient cause for concern when Alexander at 
my age reigned over so many conquered countries, and 
I have not one glorious achievement to boast?" 

It is a great thing for a young man to have friends. 
Some people talk disparagingly of interest ; but, rightly 
considered, interest is one of the arrangements of Provi- 
dence. When a young man behaves himself well and 
wisely he obtains favour in the sight of God and man. 
Those who observe him become his friends, and not only 



474 DULCE DOMUM. 

wish him well, but help him on ; and not seldom this is 
the philosophy of interest. 

Probably there are seasons of gloom and discourage- 
ment in the lives of most young people. At one time, 
Napoleon's fortune being reduced to five francs, he went 
out to the quays of Paris, intending to throw himself into 
the river, but was prevented by the generosity of a friend. 
In the desert march of Egypt the Generals Lannes and 
Murat threw themselves on the sand and gave way to 
every expression of despair. The poet Cowper, being 
depressed by the prospects of a Government examination, 
tried to poison himself, to drown himself, to cut his 
throat, to hang himself. To keep in bodily and moral 
health is a specific against melancholy; besides, not to 
be too much influenced by early failures and discourage- 
ments. If a young man has signally failed in some 
instance of his youth let him not forbode that such 
failures are natural to him, or are destined* to be 
repeated in after-life. Our mature age, although it* often 
is, yet by no means needs to be, a reproduction of our 
youthful years. Yea, manhood may be a most glorious 
contrast to the rashness, the inconstancy, the fickleness, 
and the failures of youth. On the other hand, it is quite 
fair for a young man to regard his early successes as the 
buds of greater and undeveloped things. 

How much character may alter and alter for the better 
is seen in Motley's picture of Alexander Farnese, Prince 
of Parma (set. 37). No longer the impetuous, arbitrary, 



* Oi toiq 7rpu)T0iQ ayuxri acpaXsvrer tTrnra Sia tcclvtoq njv k\7rida 
tov <p6[3ov bjioiav toiq Zvfi.<popaig txovtriv. — Thucyd., vii. 61. 



LEAVING HOME. 475 

hot-headed youth, whose intelligence and courage hardly 
atoned for his insolent manner and stormy career, he 
had become pensive, modest, almost gentle.* 

They make a great mistake who undervalue experience ; 
even if our exertions have not brought success, they have 
brought experience, and that is something. The rough- 
ness of character is often smoothed and polished by one 
of Nature's great files — experience. Precipitance is 
checked, expectation moderated, humility fostered, tem- 
per disciplined, difficulty appreciated, and wisdom gained 
by experience. 

Every optimist would wish to believe that progress is 
the normal law of humanity • and although he may be 
perplexed by the stationary character of Asia, he is 
encouraged by the steady advancement of Europe. 
Now to believe in improvement is a pledge of becoming 
wiser and better ; and when one ceases to believe in this 
possibility then he begins to deteriorate. It is indeed 
one of the sad sights of this world to see life's web end 
in coarser and meaner stuff than it began — to see a 
young man begin to weave it in golden tissue and end it 
with a selvedge of sackcloth. 

It is well to have a just view of the influence of cir- 
cumstances, and to see how men and circumstances 
mutually influence each other, so that one may not sub- 
side into fatalism, nor yet have an immoderate confi- 
dence in his own power. Evidently, to a certain extent, 
a man is moulded by surrounding influence, and therein 
appears our weakness. We are weak because we are 

* "United Netherlands," i. 135. 



476 DULCE DO MUM. 

fashioned by external circumstances ; but we are powerful 
because we can often make a selection of influences, 
allowing some to have full play on our character and 
others none at all. Now, if one can determine the 
character to which he aspires and embrace all the 
methods and circumstances which would form, and avoid 
all the elements which would destroy that character, he 
is not so much making himself a creature of influence as 
making influence a creature of his own. 

The principle of selecting may be easily illustrated. 
There is always flowing into our minds an influence 
from our surroundings. Now it would be a special 
safeguard to young persons leaving home if they made 
a daily selection, and opened the sluices of their minds 
to currents of wholesome influence. There is the case 
of reading. We generally imbibe in some degree the 
spirit of the book we read ; and in youth the mind is 
especially susceptible. Hence the great importance, 
until the judgment is formed, of reading safely, and not 
subjecting oneself to the electric shock of a powerful and 
dangerous writer. 

Some books, and especially some parts of them, will 
arrest and profit. These should be read again and 
again, and on each occasion they will brace the soul 
afresh for action. 

Decision is a special requisite for the young when 
leaving home, because hitherto everything has been 
decided for them. It would be far better if, before leaving 
the domestic circle, they had been occasionally left to 
decide for themselves, subject to the approval of parents 
and guardians. The moment they go out into the 



LEAVING HOME. 477 

world they will be placed in critical circumstances, call- 
ing for the exercise of judgment ; and it is most important, 
after they have once decided on a right course, that they 
should not be driven from it by persuasions and entreaties. 
It is a miserable thing for one who has uttered a theoretic 
No, afterwards to give a practical Yes. 

If a youth could see those parts of life which are 
behind the scenes j* if he could see the material out of 
which baits are made ; if he could see the tempter 
unadorned, then he might play the man and shake ofT 
the viper that has fastened upon him ; and if he could 
do this decidedly and at once, from how much linger- 
ing pain and chronic remorse would he save himself. \ 

The dutiful son will not only reflect on domestic 
memories, but endeavour to gratify domestic expecta- 
tions. They expect you to , turn out a Christian gentle- 
man, a kind and useful man ; and how keenly will they be 
disappointed, if you turn out a boor, or a churl, or a 
useless waif. J 

Think of the folly of a life of pleasure, where you 
barter the everlasting for the transient; and how in 
barter one is apt to part with something precious, but at 
present uncared for, in exchange for an article far less 
valuable, but at present longed for. And you are 
bartering character, prospects, and happiness. 

* " Omnia summo opere hos vitae poscaenia celant." — Lucret., iv. 
1 186. 

f " Dedoluitque semel." — Ovid, Rem. Am., 294. 

% " Pro molli viola, pro purpureo narcisso 
Carduus et spinis surgit paliurus acutis." 

Virg. Eclog., v. 38. 



478 DULCE DOMUM. 

Think of the waste. Life, enthusiasm, purpose, divine 
endowments, all dripping away. 

Think of the peril. You can see it in another's case \ 
you cannot see it in your own. The aeronaut can travel 
only as the wind carries him ; but if he sees danger 
ahead he comes down to the safe and firm ground. 
Learn a lesson from him. 

Think of the ruin. Do you not see that you are 
losing game after game in the contests of * life ; here 
respect, there influence, and a thousand other losses.* 

Leaving home is one of the most critical events in life. 
Now the young man has to think and act for himself. 
Now he is surrounded by strangers instead of the familiar 
faces which he has known from childhood. Now for the 
first time he appreciates home, when home comforts are 
missed. The Scottish emigrant in Canada, who com- 
plained pathetically that there were no linnets in the 
woods, put only a part for the whole. When we leave a 
kind and happy home, we soon find that we have left 
behind us many things besides linnets. 

* " Slight not the smallest losse, whether it be 

In love or honour ; see 

Whether thy stock of credit swell or fall." 

Herbert's "Church Porch." 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

OLD AGE. 

When a man has worked hard all the day it seems meet 
that he should have the evening to himself, as it were for 
a reward. Old age is the evening of life, and it is the 
reward of labour, of temperance, and of self-control. Of 
what kind it shall be, whether hale and vigorous, or 
sickly and joyless — yea, even whether it shall be at all, 
depends very much on how a man has spent his youth 
and middle age. 

The course of the generality in life resembles the 
ascent of travellers on a tropical mountain, at first hot 
and ardent, then moderately warm, and at the last stage 
cold and chilling. This process of cooling down is well 
known ;* but God has placed in our power many means 
by which to counteract the extreme tendency and to 
alleviate its effects. 

Old age, which is often repulsive, is not so necessarily ; 
and a good old man may be like a mouldering ruin, 
beautiful in its decay. Indeed, age has a peculiar come- 
liness of its own ; yea, sometimes a surpassing attractive- 

* " — — gdideque ministrat." — Ars. Poet., 171. 



480 DULCE DO MUM. 

ness. A constant vivacity and cheerfulness, accompanied 
by a genial pleasantry, made Agesilaus more agreeable 
even in age than the young and handsome.* It may be 
a comfort to very plain people " that old age, that ill layer- 
up of beauty, can do no more spoil " upon the face.f Yea, 
more, it has been remarked of some old men (such as 
Bishop Lonsdale) that they improve in beauty as their 
years increase, and the more evidently if they had little 
of the beauty of youth. It is not for nothing that the 
foliage is most beautiful in the fall. It would seem to 
suggest that old age may be most beautiful; and cer- 
tainly it is so, when it is adorned with the graces and the 
charities and the pleasantries of a mind mellowed by 
experience and warmed with gratitude. 

What can be more melancholy than an old man, con- 
templating the gradual ending of a useless life, and 
saying in reproachful soliloquy : I am dying ; and as I 
ebb like a receding tide, I see only a line of sea-weed on 
the beach. The same idea, from another point of view, 
has been expressed with homely force by the Earl of 
Derby : % "To pass out of the world in the world's debt — 
to have consumed much and produced nothing ; to have 
sat down, as it were, at the feast and gone away without 
paying his reckoning — is not, to put it in the mildest 
way, a satisfactory transaction." 

We often meet with people possessed with harmless 
delusions. Such notions may be permitted by Providence 
as alleviations of miserable circumstances ; and this suppo- 



* Plutarch in Agesil. f "Henry V.," v. 2. 

t Then Lord Stanley.— Times, April 3, 1869. 



OLD AGE. 481 

sition is very probable in the case of the insane. It is 
one of the alleviations of life that old age creeps upon us 
imperceptibly. We are constantly enlarging the limit 
of youth, and the age which a young man thinks old an 
old man thinks young. This makes it difficult to realise 
age j although, with all the memoranda of civilisation, we 
cannot ignore it as barbarians do. Dr. Livingstone tells 
us of an African tribe very apathetic on this point. Not 
one of the natives knows how old he is. If asked his 
age, he answers by putting another question, " Does a 
man remember when he was born?" 

Some through severe shocks and trials grow grey and 
old all at once. There is the historic case of Henry of 
Navarre. When he heard that the king had promul- 
gated the edict of Nemour (1585), he remained for a 
time with his face in his right hand. When he raised 
his face again — so he afterwards asserted — one side of 
his mustachio had turned white.* There can be no 
doubt that it is more natural and more desirable to grow 
old smoothly, f Horace says that piety does not retard 
the approach of wrinkles ; % but that piety which obeys 
the 'divine laws of the body as well as the soul will pre- 
vent premature old age, and keep off wrinkles for many 
a year. 

It is a pitiable sight to see an old man who has 
missed the object of life, who has lived many years and 
never arrived at true happiness, who has spent his life 
and energies and declares that all is vanity. Such a 

* Motley's " United Netherlands," i. 132. 

f \17rapwt; yrjpaa xifitv is Homer's expression. — Od., iv. 210. 

% Carm., ii. 14, 2. 

I I 



482 DULCE DOMUM. 

spectacle is by no means uncommon, and God has made 
a provision for the case in the scheme of Christianity. 
He is able and willing to renovate man's spiritual nature, 
and he can put a fresh kernel into an old and worn-out 
husk. Of course it is sad to think that a man should not 
understand life till he is about to leave it ; that he should 
live all his years to himself and not to God ; but we 
must console ourselves with the fact, that some plants 
are late and do not blossom till winter. Thank God, if 
even then. 

Christianity is especially encouraging, announcing the 
possibility of restoring the fallen, the degraded, the un- 
godly, at all periods of life, regarding this change always 
as practicable, and never implying that it is visionary, or 
unreal, or worthless,* or tantalizing as coming in at the 
end of life, but inestimable as coming in at the begin- 
ning of everlasting life. 

The change of mind f so familiar to Christianity, is 
always stupendous ; but especially so in an old man. It 
involves a change of judgment, likings, desires, hopes, 
and prayers.^ When that is accomplished by the Spirit 
of God, then we have in human nature that wonderful 
phenomenon, which has been observed at least once in 
the natural world, a current running in an opposite 
direction to that in which the ancient river must have 
flowed. § 

* yepovTa 6' bpOovv, cpkavpov, og vsog irkay. — CEd. Col., 395. 

f fitrdvoia. 

X oiaO' wc [ierev%ti icai <TO(po>Tepa ^>avti. — Med., 600. 

§ "The Lekome now winds in its channel, in an opposite direction 
to that in which the ancient river must have flowed." — Livingstone's 
" Travels," p. 527. 



OLD AGE. 483 

There is a development of evil as well as of good 
running parallel with the increase of our years. We are 
growing better and we are growing worse at the same 
time. To drain off the stream of evil and to attenuate 
it, and at the same time to augment the current of good, 
is a duty still incumbent on the aged as well as on the 
young. 

The great danger of the old man is lest he should 
become self-satisfied, wedded by custom to his mode of 
living, and refuse to make any change or amendment. 
The Greeks seem to have regarded this as a formidable 
danger, and to have expressed their opinion in the pro- 
verb, " You might as well physic the dead as advise an 
old man." 

The old man has been accused of being querulous, 
and there is much to explain, if not to excuse, that 
temper. His pleasures and friendships have passed 
away. Bereft of relations and friends, he is left in the 
winter of his old age like a bird perched solitary on a 
leafless tree. This is the penalty imposed on the long- 
lived, that they must grow old with the death-blow in 
their house for ever falling fresh — in oft-recurring sorrow 
— in unremitting mourning and a suit of black. * These 
losses, while imparting a sense of sorrow, also inspire 
the fear of being left alone and without help and support : 

" The fears all, trie tears all 
Of dim declining age." f 

If it be true that some are taken away from the evil 
* Juv. Sat., x. 243. f Burns, " Ode : Despondency." 



484 DULCE DO MUM. 

to come, it is no less true that the aged are often re- 
served to behold fresh and painful events. Many 
besides Priam by being spared have witnessed a child's 
disgrace ; and it is to be noted that the old are more 
apt to feel the pain, than to sympathize with the joy and 
progress, of a generation which is new and strange to 
them. 

As ailments increase, the power of enjoyment seems 
to diminish. The appetites and senses become blunted, 
and age subsides into joylessness. Personal attractions 
— form, voice, colour — fade away ; and the aged suspect 
that they are no longer agreeable, and feel that they are 
strangers amidst the vast immigration of a younger popu- 
lation. When we are old — 

"That only serves to make us grieve 
"With oft and tedious taking-leave, 
Like some poor nigh-related guest, 
That may not rudely be dismissed, 
Yet hath outstayed his welcome while, 
And tells the jest without the smile." * 

The old man has become stiff and has lost the plastic 
nature, which can be moulded into new shapes and 
forms. He has appreciated his own generation; he 
cannot appreciate the novel fashions of a more modern 
time. 

In the famous sketch of Horace f he represents the 
aged as difficult to please, complaining and praising the 
time past. Modern experience verifies these touches, 
although with modification. Now, a person who is 

* Coleridge. 

f "Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti." — Ars Poet., 173. 



OLD AGE, 485 

happy is easily pleased; but one who has missed the 
object of life is apt to be dissatisfied with everything. 
He has no resources in himself,* and he is not even 
agreeable to himself. \ But the fault is not in old age, 
but in the man himself. 

They have certainly a propensity to undervalue pre- 
sent blessings; and yet who can compare the present 
with the past, and not confess the enormous superiority 
of these times. We have now houses with windows and 
chimneys ; we have food from every clime ; we have 
watches instead of clepsydras ; we have railways instead 
of jolting waggons, and we send messages by electricity 
instead of beacon fires. A Sunday scholar knows more 
of true religion than Plato or Socrates. The Jews had 
types and shadows ; we have substances and realities. 
When the High Priest entered into the Holy Place, 
seventy-two little bells tinkled; but when a Luther 
speaks, he makes vast continents to shake with his 
trumpet voice. Ours is the light not of seven, but of 
seventy days condensed into one. Kings and prophets 
of the olden time might well have desired to see the 
things that we see. The result of all this has been well 
expressed by the Duke of Argyll : " The human family 
has been endowed with new mercies." % 

But there are some old men unprejudiced who ad- 
vance with the age, and welcome each new discovery 
as a revelation from God, and thank Him for sparing 

* "Nihil opis est in ipsis." — Cic, De Senect, 2. 
f OvQ' 6 fir) ETriEitcrjg 7r\ovTrjoag evKoXog ttot av eavrij} ykvoiTO. 
— Plato, Repub., i. 4. 
J " Reign of Law," p. 4. 



4&5 DULCE DOMUM. 

them to see so much. This elastic spirit makes the old 
man joyous ; this makes his winter kindly and cheerful.* 

A bad old man is a double monument of his own 
ingratitude and of God's forbearance. Yet he does not 
escape with impunity. He is tormented with a retinue 
of evil habits, followers that he has engaged and cannot 
get rid of. And God justly tantalizes him in his efforts 
after continuous pleasure; for though the young man 
partakes of sin in its effervescence, yet the old man 
drinks it flat. 

The grand occupation of old age should be a prepara- 
tion for our solemn meeting with God. We know how 
the bones of extinct animals, which have been buried for 
thousands of years, have afterwards been disinterred and 
brought to light, examined and reconstructed, and made, 
so to speak, to tell their habits and history. That is but 
a faint emblem of the resurrection to judgment. Men 
and women after lying in their graves for ages, will not 
only be raised again but raised to life, not only ex- 
amined but judged, not only made to give an account 
of the deeds done in the body but made to receive an 
everlasting recompence for what they have done, whether 
it be good or bad. 

If you are striving to prepare for that solemn scrutiny, 
God will make you meet to be partakers of the society 
above. He will change your nature and habits, other- 
wise you would be quite unsuitable members. No 



The scholar should not forget Anacreon's verse 
Tag de Qpkvag vtaZ,u. 



OLD AGE. 487 

beetle revelling in the bosom of white roses would seem 
more out of place than a wicked man in heaven. 

Some old men are quite worn out ; others are in a 
good state of preservation. This is sometimes indepen- 
dent of themselves ; sometimes it is the result of con- 
duct ; sometimes it is the result of a prudent economy 
of the vital force. Though all the volatile gas of youth 
is burned out, the charred coal still gives out a powerful 
heat; and when one combines with this glow the ex- 
perience of age, we have one of the finest and most 
useful characters — most fit to give counsel* and impulse 
and to work through others. For " what a man does 
through others he does through himself." " It is the 
love of my art," said John Gibson, " and the desire of 
imparting to the young the experience which I have 
gained .... which induce me to record a few incidents 
in my life." The experienced, standing as it were upon 
a height, have both a prospect and a retrospect, and can 
judge of the future from the past. It is in this way, by 
imparting to others their experience and advice, that they 
verify the Greek proverb : The old age of the eagle is better 
than the youth of tlie sparrow . But of course to all this 
vigorous old age is not given, and many, like Priam, can 
throw only a feeble dart ; therefore let them work while 
they have youth and strength, for the night cometh, 
when no man can work. 



* " I am delighted to converse with persons well advanced in 
years ; for it appears to me a duty to learn from them, as from 
persons who have gone before us on a road which we too must 
necessarily travel, what kind of road it is, — whether rough and diffi- 
cult, or level and easy." — Plato, Repub., i. 2. 



488 DULCE DOMUM. 

Homer's portrait of Nestor is a fine ideal : " Inde- 
fatigable art thou, old man : never, indeed, dost thou 
cease from labour : thou art impossible to be wearied." * 

That great observer, Dr. Livingstone, notes that when 
the lion becomes old and loses his teeth, he begins to 
catch mice and even to eat grass — a striking emblem of 
the imprudent man, who grows old without having made 
any provision, and then deteriorates and comes down to 
small and petty things. It is in such circumstances that 
we see clearly how on a little money more or less 
depends life ; and this thought suggests, moreover, how 
on a little knowledge, coolness, common sense, hope, 
caution, self-control, more or less depends life or death. 

Old age, like so many other of God's gifts, is very 
much what we make it. A merry heart, moderate desires, 
and discreet conduct diminish the burdens and alleviate 
the ailments of declining life. It is a gift, then, which 
prospers in the hands of the wise, and corrupts in the 
hands of the fool. 

There is far more in the Scripture phrase than people 
generally seem to think : " They that wait upon the 
Lord shall renew \ their strength." The whole question 
both of bodily and mental renovation would reward 
investigation and discussion. Both the Greeks J and 
Romans, § as well as the moderns, have noticed it inci- 
dentally. Some have acquired new teeth and new hair 



* Iliad, x. 164. 

f Isaiah xl. 31. The Hebrew word means to revive, properly to 
produce new buds or leaves. — Gesen. 
% avr)[3ij<jai. — Xen. Cyrop., iv. 6, 7. 
§ " Repuerascere." — Cic, De Orat., ii. 6. 



OLD AGE. 489 

in advanced life ; and the continual renovation of the 
body is a well-known physiological fact. The restorative 
power in many of the lower animals, such as the 
amphibia, is very observable and striking. The renewal 
of scales in fishes, skins in snakes, feathers and bill in 
birds, is an exemplification of the same law. We always 
observe that the more perfect this renovation is, the 
duration of life is proportionably longer.* The more 
care therefore one takes of health the more complete 
will the renovation be, and the longer the life. While 
striving after this extension we ought not to forget that 
every day God grants us a renewal of our lease, and he 
grants it without a fine. 

What will give the most real and permanent joy to the 
old man is the feeling that his sin is forgiven, that his 
nature is renewed, and that he is at peace with God. 
How blessed thus to be within the covenant of grace, 
to sit beyond the tide-mark, and fear not the advance of 
the most tempestuous waves ! 

The old man at peace within, and cherishing hopes for 
the future, will not refuse to recognise the fact that old 
age is a near neighbour to death.^ This recognition is not 
only Christian, but prudent ; for in his state of debility 
and feebleness a sudden change, an unexpected shock, 
or a trivial accident, suspends and terminates the vital 
action. It is well also to realise that we are going on, 
that we cannot stand still, and that we cannot go back, 
— no, not an instant of life. As an anonymous writer 



* Hufeland, "Art of prolonging Life," c. iv. 

f " Greek Anthology," Edwards's Selection, 493. 



490 DULCE DOMUM. 

has forcibly expressed it, " A man's life is a tower with a 
staircase of many steps, that, as he toileth upward, 
crumble successively behind him." 

To the old man who has wasted life, and is neither at 
unity with God nor himself, I would say : God has given 
you many years, and you have shot them away like 
arrows, and have missed the mark. If God give you 
another year, may he also help you to aim better, and 
to hit the target of life. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE END. 

Death breaks up the earthly home, therefore it may be 
regarded as the end. Philosophers and metaphysicians, 
with all their subtlety, cannot define accurately what 
death is ; and therefore we come back with comfort to 
the simplicity of Scripture, which represents death as the 
departure of the soul from the body. 

Christianity has, to a certain extent, sanctioned the 
Greek idea that death is a sleep. The dying words of 
Gorgias of Leontium are calm and touching : — " Now 
sleep begins to hand me over to his brother." 

The wise man will not only realise that life is passing, 
but that it is passing rapidly. Numberless are the similes 
employed to impress this fact upon the mind. The 
images of the fading leaf and flower, of the rapid bird and 
arrow, have been so often used, that they become com- 
monplace and unimpressive. This is much to be re- 
gretted, and it would tend to give us a truer idea of life 
and more appropriate feelings if we tried to realise for 
ourselves those images which have illustrated only too 
successfully the brevity of human life. If we are tempted 
to complain of its shortness, we may reflect that it might 



49 2 DULCE DO MUM. 

have been shorter. Some of the gayest insects live no 
longer than a summer afternoon. Human life is immor- 
tality compared to that. It is worthy of note, that when 
we are happy time seems to fly ; but there is, as usual, a 
compensation, for if in this way life goes more rapidly, it 
goes more delightfully. 

There is a special fitness in the image which repre- 
sents death as the repayment of the loan of life ; for men 
are affected towards death as the borrower is to the 
lender — they hate the settling day, when the life which 
was lent shall be demanded.* It is so, even when the 
settlement is deferred and postponed. The philosopher 
Hobbes, though he lived to an extreme old age, could 
never reconcile himself to the thoughts of death. He 
was a bold and daring thinker ; but one thing he lacked, 
and that was Christian hope. 

Another very suggestive image of death represents it 
as a revelation. We are now, as it were, standing in the 
porch till the door is opened, and we are ushered into 
the temple of everlasting life. This may well excite a 
manly curiosity and a patient waiting for the time when 
death shall reveal to us the wonders and the marvels of 
the yet invisible world. 

It has been said that we live as if we should live 
always ; and certainly men and women do go on in this 
life as if they should never come to a boundary ; and 
they do calculate upon days and years as if God had 
not numbered and settled them. This is one of the 
many illusions of life, which many cherish as a hidden 

* Wisd. xv. 8. 



THE END. 493 

and secret belief, and, in consequence, fancy that they 
can wage war with death ; but, although it is true that 
they can sometimes stave him off for a time, yet is he 
always victor ; and, although he sometimes loses a battle, 
yet he always wins the war. No wisdom, nor wealth, 
nor power, can escape. That was an impressive admo- 
nition which the herald proclaimed to the corpse of 
the Emperor Constantine VII. before the proces- 
sion moved towards the sepulchre : — " Arise, O king 
of the world, and obey the summons of the King of 
kings." 

It is also an illusion to believe that we shall live to old 
age. Only a few live so long ; but those few, with their 
hoary hair and all the attributes of longevity, are before 
our eyes, and we secretly hope that we may be what 
they are — full of years. On the contrary, the multitudes 
who have died before their time are hidden in their 
graves out of sight, in the churchyards, where youth and 
pleasure seldom visit, and therefore we do not think of 
them. 

It is a corrective of such dreams to bear in mind that 
death is a thing settled and fixed, and that it is ap- 
pointed unto men once to die ; but it is at the same 
time a substantial comfort to know that it is only 
appointed unto all men to die once ; and he who dies 
twice has to thank his own carelessness, his own unbelief, 
his own indifference, and his own folly, for the second 
death. 

It will serve to make us vigilant if we remember the 
thousand shapes in which death attacks mankind. He 
makes vices and fevers his ministers ; diseases and acci- 



494 DULCE DO MUM. 

dents are his fellow-workers. His agency is incessant, 
powerful, and destructive, so that we can never be a 
moment secure. Sometimes the causes seem altogether 
trifling, and might seem incredible, if they were not well 
attested. A fly that has fed on putrid matter inserts it 
into a man, and he becomes infected and dies. A 
glandered horse seems to kiss a lady, as she said play- 
fully ; but by that touch communicates disease and 
death. 

To many the death of infants is at once most painful 
and most mysterious. To some, no doubt, the poetical 
idea has given comfort : — 

"He took the cup of life to sip, 
Too bitter 'twas to drain ; 
He put it gently from his lip, 
Then went to sleep again." 

But, undoubtedly, the true and philosophical explana- 
tion is, that God weeds the forest of life, and takes away 
the young saplings before they have a consciousness of 
the sweetness of existence or the bitterness of death. 

The past is irrevocable. What an overpowering 
thought, when we reflect on it ! The hours mis-spent or 
wasted cannot be recalled ; yet they are not altogether 
lost, if they serve as beacons for the future. Time is 
ever changing from present to past, from past to future, 
and we are changing with it. 

The fact that our life is constantly diminishing ought, 
as it no doubt does, induce many to make the most of 
it, and to strive after a deeper and fuller enjoyment of it. 
Yet, for want of enlightenment, most men make enormous 
blunders; and, pursuing wrong methods, spoil life and 



THE END. 495 

all its happiness. Herodotus tells us of an Egyptian 
king, to whom it was communicated by the oracle, that 
he had no more than six years to live, and should die in 
the seventh. When the king was assured of this, he 
ordered a great number of lamps to be made, and having 
lighted them whenever night came on, he drank and 
enjoyed himself, never ceasing night or day, roving 
about the marshes and groves, wherever he could hear of 
places most suited for pleasure ; and he had recourse to 
this artifice for the purpose of convicting the oracle of 
falsehood, that by turning the nights into days, he might 
have twelve years instead of six,* This story could 
easily be modernised into a satire on the irrational 
methods which men take to make the most of life. Both 
fashions are equally unwise; only the antique seems 
always the most absurd in comparison with the modes of 
the present. 

It was the advice of Epictetus : t — " Let death, exile, 
and all things that appear dreadful be daily before your 
eyes, but death most of all ; and you will then never plan 
anything mean, nor desire anything excessively." St. 
Aldegonde was a prisoner in the power of the Spaniards. 
For more than three months he never laid his head upon 
the pillow without commending his soul, as for the last 
time, to his Maker, expecting daily the order for his 
immediate execution. Happily, few are subjected to 
this torture; but a frequent anticipation is far better 

* It shows the identity of human nature, that Archbishop 
Whately in his early life sometimes endeavoured to get two days 
out of one. 

t c. 21. 



496 DULCE DOMUM. 

than a heedless oblivion ; for life often comes to an 
abrupt end, when men are presuming on length of days ; 
and then there is felt such a shock as one receives, 
when he imagines there is one step more of a stair to 
descend than there really is. 

It might be argued that such a daily anticipation of 
death would be apt to produce melancholy, and this 
might have been a formidable objection to the Stoic's 
precept \ but in Christendom the skull and cross-bones 
are not the only symbols of death. The flower budding 
from the calyx, the bird bursting from its shell, are as 
true and fitting emblems ; * and the believer, who looks 
upon it as a translation to a different, and especially to a 
better life, has little cause for melancholy. Does it make 
a royal heir dejected if he sometimes looks forward to 
his crown ? 

It was one of the outcomings of a presumptuous age 
that Fouche, Minister of Police in the French Revolution, 
published a proclamation, in which he declared that the 
mortcloth, used at funerals, should bear, instead of a 
religious emblem, a figure of Sleep, and that over the 
door of the cemetery should be written, " Death is an 
eternal sleep." But the voice of nature is stronger than 
the proclamation of any human power, and it ever whis- 

* There was in a Parisian cemetery not long ago these touching 
and pleasing emblems on a sepulchral monument : a white garland, 
inscribed "Mon fils cheri;" and beneath was the child's toys, a 
horse and water-cart. The Chinese familiarise themselves with 
death, and do not seem on that account to become melancholy. They 
pay great attention to the quality of the*ir coffins, and frequently 
provide them in their lifetime ; indeed, a coffin is a most acceptable 
present, and is frequently given by children to their parents. 



THE END. 497 

pers that death is something more terrible than sleep. 
Persons high and low have this awful dread. Lord 
Clonmell is reported to have said : " I have been a for- 
tunate man in life. I am a chief justice and an earl ; 
but believe me, I would rather be beginning the world 
as a young sweep." The traitor Thistle wood, on the 
night preceding his execution, while he supposed that 
the person who was appointed to watch him in his 
cell was asleep, was seen repeatedly calling upon Christ 
his Saviour to have mercy upon him, and to forgive 
his sins.* The terror which death excites sometimes 
takes the shape of restitution, both in Christians and 
in heathens. It was this that caused Henry VII., by 
a general clause in his will, to order restitution to be 
made to all those whom he had injured. He distributed 
alms, and founded religious houses out of his ill-gotten 
wealth. In the same circumstances, the Maharajah Run- 
jeet sent his famous jewels and pearls as gifts to different 
shrines, with directions that the Brahmins should pray 
for him.t Our Lord has lighted up the valley of the 
shadow of death, and made the transit easier now than it 
was in the old times. Christ has made an atonement for 
sin, and he who believes is forgiven and justified ; and 
so, able to die peacefully, hopefully, and happily. 

The dread of death is a fact which may be interpreted 
in two ways. Some might infer that it was the same as 
the dread of annihilation. But it is manifestly implanted 
in us for self-preservation and to deter from suicide, \ at 

* " The Doctor," ch. 71. 

f " Up the Country," by the Hon. E. Eden, ii. 136. 

% Xenoph. Memorabilia, i. 4, 7. 

K K 



498 DULCE DO MUM. 

which gate thousands would rush out of life, when miser- 
able, were not dread and mystery the watch-dogs of life. 
Doubtless it has other uses : it represses those who would 
otherwise be irrepressible, for when one has overcome 
the fear of death, his boldness may even pass into 
ferocity : * and he does violence to himself and others, 
and then leaves the world, slamming the door of life. 

But there must be something wrong physically, morally, 
or intellectually, when men wish to die. One can easily 
understand why a poor sufferer with a painful or loath- 
some disease should wish to depart ; and it is an instruc- 
tive fact that insane patients need to be reconciled to 
life.f To a man who has committed great social and 
political crimes the light and air of heaven are no longer 
pleasant. Such we may suppose is the feeling of the 
CatilinesJ and Napoleons, when they have gambled 
mightily and lost mightily. Indeed, it is well known that 
Napoleon tried to poison himself, that he purposed to 
blow out his brains, and that he refused to take remedies, 
in spite of remonstrance, saying : " Ce qui est ecrit, est 
ecrit, 11 from above, looking up. " Nos journees sont 
comptees"^ 

Pitiable is the case of one refusing to die ; pitiable is 
the case of one hoping to escape. He flees from death 
as the startled horse flees from the rumbling wheels, 
which nevertheless are ever following, for he draws them 
close behind him. To dread death and yet after all 

* Hor. Car., i. 37, 29 : " Deliberata morte ferocior. " 

f "Life of Dr. Conolly," p. 11. 

+ Cic. in Cat., i. 15. 

\ O'Meara's "Napoleon in Exile," ii. 256. 



THE END. 499 

to meet it courageously is the height of manliness, and 
a height not easily attained. The struggle is well seen 
in the tragic story of Sir Walter Raleigh. Finding his 
fate inevitable he collected all his courage, and though he 
had formerly made use of many mean artifices, such 
as feigning madness, sickness, and a variety of diseases, 
in order to protract his examination and procure his 
escape, he now resolved to act his part bravely and reso- 
lutely, and so with calmness and self-possession he laid 
his head upon the block and received the fatal blow. 
Louis XVI. had well prepared for death : he had often 
read the account of the execution of Charles I. He was 
a man of religious feeling, and it was he who gave the 
famous challenge, placing his hand on his breast : " Feel 
whether this is the beating of a heart agitated by fear." * 
At the same time it is not to be denied that a man with- 
out religion, yea, even an Atheist, may die without alarm. 
Vanini was condemned to be burnt as a professed 
Atheist. As he went to the stake he held out his hand 
to a physician, desiring him to judge of the calmness of 
his mind by the regularity of his pulse. \ Mirabeau may 
not be classed in the irreligious category ; yet, when 
dying in consequence of continued debaucheries, he 
said : " Remove from the bed all that sad apparatus. 
Instead of these useless precautions surround me with 
the perfumes and the flowers of spring ; dress my hair 
with care ; let me fall asleep amidst the sound of harmo- 
nious music." 



* Alison's "Hist, of Europe," i. 394. 
f » Fable of the Bees," i. 238. 



5oo DULCE DO MUM. 

Gibbon draws a fine contrast between two acts in the 
life of Motassem. To a point of honour the caliph had 
sacrificed a flourishing city, two hundred thousand lives, 
and the property of millions. The same caliph descended 
from his horse, and dirtied his robe, to relieve the distress 
of a decrepit old man, who with his laden ass had 
tumbled into a ditch. On which of these actions did 
he reflect with the most pleasure, when he was summoned 
by the angel of death ? 

To anticipate those solemn scenes without preparing 
for them indicates imbecility of character. As death puts 
an end to our probation it would seem to be a blessing or 
a curse, as men are prepared or not. To the good, death 
is a soul-conductor to heaven j to the wicked it is the 
apparitor of hell. It is said that the ancients used to 
pray for what they called Euthanasia, a beautiful dying. 
We may well pray the same prayer with better hopes of a 
happy exit. 

This preparation ought not to be deferred, for although 
sudden death is not general, yet, as it happens to some, 
we can never be sure but it will happen to us. It is a 
shocking thing to have to dig a well at the last moment, 
just when you are dying of thirst. Perhaps there are few 
thoughts more distressing to the dying Christian than the 
thought of what he might have been. Go to his chamber : 
listen to his regrets : My faith, which is a grain of 
mustard seed, might have been a great tree. My 
pound, which has gained one pound, might have gained 
ten pounds. I, who have only got within the wicket 
gate of repentance, might have been climbing to the 
summit of perfection. But alas ! I have made no pro- 



THE END. 501 

gress, and I must die, not as I might have been, but as 
I am. 

A man should die if he can, not passively, but actively, 
gracefully going through the last act in the drama of life. 
And this suggests the reflection that the actors in plays 
are wiser than men in realities ; for they rehearse and 
prepare to act their part, however trivial that part may 
be — perhaps the meanest of all. Men, however, come 
into the last scene of life without having premeditated 
how to pass through the solemn act of dying. It was a 
saying worthy of coming from a nobler tongue than that 
which uttered it : " My sole concern is to manage the 
third and last act of my life with decency, and to make a 
handsome exit off the stage. Provided this point is 
secured, I am not solicitous about the rest." * 

When a man is well prepared and " studied in his 
death," he is ready to depart, and can say his Nunc dimittis 
cheerfully. But it may not be amiss to note how many 
chant that canticle in a state of unpreparedness. Even 
a heathen philosopher like Socrates might put many 
Christians to shame, when he speaks of the dreadful 
danger of neglecting the soul.f The asthmatic dreads to 
lie down to sleep for fear of awaking with a choking 
cough, and shall a wicked man fall asleep in death and 
not be afraid of a terrible awakening ? 

The compassion of Divine Providence may be seen 

* Gardiner, bishop of Winchester. 

77 de Kai Qvyiokovg' ofiutg 
7ro\\rjv irpovoiav tlx tv £voxr)H<*)G TttaCiv. 

Eurip. Hec., 568. 
f Phaedo., c. lvii. 



502 DULCE DO MUM. 

in the alleviations of death. The attachment to life 
becomes relaxed with age, and no doubt the poet has 
expressed a general experience, and many besides Mac- 
beth have said — 

" I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun." * 

At a very early stage of human history Rebekah says : — 
"lam weary of my life." f If man were immortal here 
on earth, millions would pray for death. The Psalmist 
longed for the wings of a dove that he might fly away 
and be at rest ; and even the saintly Paul had a desire 
to depart and to be with Christ. 

"When a man considers how many sins and follies 
sully the past, and how many temptations await him in 
the future, he is apt to wish, if it were God's will, that he 
had left this world and all its mirage, and were safe in 
the better land. Bat it is a question whether such 
desires are always laudable, and whether they always 
spring from a desire after the heavenly life. When we 
wish merely to escape suffering and trials and tempta- 
tions, what is that but seeking to escape the probation 
which God in his wisdom hath appointed for us ? 

In the most solemn crisis of life the afflicted have 
pre-eminently the advantage over the healthy, the pros- 
perous and the wealthy. " O death, how bitter is the 



* Had Shakespeare known the ^Eneid ? He often mentions Dido, 
and may have observed the fine touch — 

" Mortem orat ; taedet coeli convexa tueri." 

^En., iv. 451. 
t Gen. xxvii. 46. 



THE END. 503 

remembrance of thee to a man that liveth at rest in his 
possessions, unto the man that hath nothing to vex him, 
and that hath prosperity in all things : yea, unto him 
that is yet able to receive meat ! O death, acceptable 
is thy sentence unto the needy, and unto him whose 
strength faileth, that is now in the last age, and is vexed 
with all things, and to him that despaireth and hath lost 
patience ! " * 

The migration of souls is indeed a grand idea, and 
may be contemplated with calmness and desire by the 
strong believer ; but what shall we say to the timid and 
doubting ? Dying Christian, fear not the passage from 
earth to heaven. God shall be with you. Remember 
how he guides the little birds of passage, feeble and 
delicate, through storms of wind and rain and snow, 
over the wide ocean, and how he brings them safe to 
land at their appointed times. He will be your guide 
also. 

No place is exempt from death : no salubrious climate, 
with cloudless skies and healing waters, is free. It was 
an observation of Hormisdas, a fugitive Prince of Persia, 
when he came to visit Rome, that one thing only had 
displeased him — to find that men died at Rome as well 
as elsewhere. However, when we consider that death 
may seize us anywhere, we shall do well to ponder the 
question of St. Augustine — "What difference does it 
make to a Christian, whether he die in the midst of his 
neighbours or in foreign countries, on the bed of pain 
or in the bosom of the waves, provided he die in piety 

* Ecclus. xli. 1, 2. 



504 DULCE DO MUM. 

and righteousness?" The only exception which need 
be taken to this indifference, is in the case of places of 
vice and evil name. Let no man go there where he 
would be ashamed to die. 

It was a noble saying of the Empress Theodora : " The 
throne is a glorious sepulchre ; " and it is a saying which 
admits of a very obvious and extensive application. A 
man who dies at his post, especially when he holds his 
own at his risk and peril, has a glorious end. 

It is something to live quietly ; it is something to die 
quietly* at home. At least the student of history will 
think so ; for he has read of pitiable, horrible, and out- 
rageous deaths. Some have been prevented from say- 
ing a farewell word by the overpowering noise of drums. 
Some have died amidst cruel mockery. Some have been 
buried alive ; some have been burned alive. Some have 
been murdered with frightful preliminaries, their hair 
pulled out, their teeth knocked out, their eyes gouged 
out. Some have been tortured on the rack. Some have 
been broken on the wheel. These things have happened 
to kings and great ones of the earth — pitiable, horrible, 
outrageous ; but alleviating ordinary death by the reflec- 
tion that it is something to die quietly at home. Great 
stress is laid and justly on the last words spoken, but who 
can tell the comfort or the pain of the last words heard ? 
"Son of St. Louis, ascend to heaven" was the grand 
apostrophe of the king's confessor to Louis XVI. Robes- 
pierre's ears were greeted for the last time with the 
shriek : " Descend to hell"' 

* " Nee vixit male, qui natus moriensque fefellit." 

Hor. Ep., i. 17, 10. 



THE END. 505 

No doubt, God intended death to be easy ; and those 
who live regularly and die maturely, like ripe fruit, 
"gathered, not harshly plucked" * have little pain in death. 
The celebrated physician, William Hunter, in his last 
moments, turning to a friend, observed : "If I had 
strength enough to hold a pen, I would write how easy 
and pleasant a thing it is to die." Still more remark- 
able was the death of Venn, of Huddersfield. His 
medical attendant said to him, "Sir, in this state of 
joyous excitement you cannot die." The joy of dying 
kept him alive. 

Speaking after the manner of men, we say that some 
die before their time, and that some live too long ; but 
we might say that that man is more than fortunate who 
dies just at the right time— felicem opportunitate mortis. 
It was in recognition of this truth that Necker said : 
" Now is the moment that I should die ; " and all men 
may know who it was that said, " I ought to have died 
at Waterloo " (" J'aurais du mourir a Waterloo "). 

How often have we to lament what seems to be the 
premature removal of poets, preachers, and statesmen ! 
Some, like Theodoric, have lived too long, since he, the 
most tolerant of princes, was driven to the brink of per- 
secution, and lived to condemn the virtue of Boethius 
and Symmachus. These are mysteries written in the 
sealed book, which no man yet has been found able to 
open. 

Cromwell was happy in the opportuneness of his death. 

* " Paradise Lost," book xi. ; but the idea is in Cic. de Senec, 
c. 19 : — " Quasi poma ex arboribus, cruda si sint, vi avelluntur j si 
matura et cocta, decidunt." 



506 DULCE DOMUM. 

Such difficulties surrounded the Protector, that his dying 
at so critical a time is esteemed by many the most for- 
tunate circumstance that ever attended him ; and it was 
thought that all his courage and dexterity could not much 
longer have availed him. 

Men have met death with an infinite variety of feelings 
— some timidly, others courageously ; some reluctantly, 
others eagerly ; some cheerfully, others merrily. Some- 
thing, and that not a little, depends upon the circum- 
stances. 

One of the most piteous deaths in history is that of 
Patkul, ambassador of the Czar, murdered by that semi- 
madman Charles XII. A chaplain came to announce 
to Patkul that he must die. Then this man, who had 
braved death in so many battles, finding himself alone 
with the priest, and his courage being no longer sustained 
by glory nor by enthusiasm, wept bitterly on the chap- 
lain's breast. He was engaged to a Saxon lady, and 
hoped to be married just about the time he was given 
over to punishment. 

In beautiful contrast to this tragic scene stands out the 
way in which Queen Mary, wife of William III., received 
the intimation of her approaching end. The small-pox 
had attacked the young and blooming queen. She 
received the intelligence of her danger with true great" 
ness of soul. She gave orders that every lady of her 
bedchamber, every maid of honour, nay, every menial 
servant, who had not had the small-pox, should instantly 
leave the palace. Archbishop Tenison undertook to tell 
her that she was dying. He was afraid that such a com- 
munication, abruptly made, might agitate her violently, 



THE END. 507 

and began with much management. But she soon caught 
his meaning, and with that meek, womanly courage, 
which so often puts our bravery to shame, submitted her- 
self to the will of God.* 

The self-command of Lord Russell in that solemn 
hour is eminently instructive; He refused to save his life 
at the risk of his friend, Lord Cavendish, who wanted to 
have his clothes and danger. The day before his execu- 
tion he was seized with a bleeding at the nose. " I shall 
not now let blood to divert this distemper," said he to 
Dr. Burnet, who attended him ; " that will be done to- 
morrow." A little before the sheriffs conducted him to 
the scaffold he wound up his watch : " Now I have done," 
said he, " with time, and henceforth must think solely of 
eternity." Perhaps he had reflected on the serene death 
of Strafford. As that eminent nobleman went to disrobe, 
and prepare himself for the block : " I thank God," said 
he, " that I am nowise afraid of death, nor am daunted 
with any terrors ; but do as cheerfully lay down my head 
at this time, as ever I did when going to repose." 

It is better to die with cheerfulness than with plea- 
santry : for a witticism on the threshold of eternity 
savours of irreverence. It is this which makes the 
characteristic politeness of Charles II. then offensive. 
He had been, he said, a most unconscionable time dying ; 
but he hoped that they would excuse it. The same 
apathy or affectation was exhibited by a Roman Catholic 
priest called Evans. He was playing at tennis when a 
warrant for his immediate execution was notified to him 

* Macaulay. 



508 DULCE DO MUM. 

— he swore that he would play out his set first. This 
recklessness does not have the genuine ring of pre- 
paredness about it. 

The father of the first Earl of Clarendon died counsel- 
ling his son. He was earnestly exhorting him to avoid 
straining every point of law in favour of royal prerogative, 
and perverting so useful a science to the oppression of 
liberty ; and, in the midst of these rational and virtuous 
counsels, which he reiterated, he was suddenly seized with 
apoplexy, and expired in his son's presence. This cir- 
cumstance gave additional weight to the principles which 
he inculcated. 

It is pleasing to record how many have triumphed over 
mortal fears, and been eager to be with God. The can- 
didates for martyrdom in the early times of Christianity 
sometimes forced their way into the courts of justice, and 
compelled the affrighted judge to give orders for their 
immediate execution. They frequently stopped travellers 
on the public highways, and obliged them to inflict the 
stroke of martyrdom, by the promise of a reward if they 
consented, and by the threat of instant death if they 
refused to grant so very singular a favour.* No doubt 
these religious suicides, for they were accessory to their 
death, expected at once to pass into heaven ; and there- 
fore, wherever the same expectation was strong, one 
might calculate upon the same contempt for life. Thus 
we read of a caliph so desirous of being with God, that 
he would not have anointed his ear (his own saying) to 
obtain a perfect cure of his last malady. 

* Gibbon's "Decline and Fall," c. xxi. 



THE END. 509 

Here a distinction ought to be drawn between those 
who die in insensibility and those who die in peace. If 
a man has repented and dies trusting in Christ, no matter 
what may be the agonies and contortions of his body, we 
say the man dies in peace, in the peace of God. But if, 
on the other hand, a man neither believes nor repents, 
although he may die without a sigh and without a groan, 
without a fear and without a tear, yet that is not peace, at 
least it is not the peace of God. That is the way the ox and 
the ass die : it is the death of insensibility, not of peace.* 

In one sense, we can carry nothing out of this world, 
and in another sense we can ; we can carry away the 
respect, the regret, and the sympathy of our fellow-men. 
King Jehoram " departed without being desired" and so do 
many selfish, wicked men ; for they have done so little 
good, and have been of so little use, that they are easily 
dispensed with, and indeed are never missed. No doubt 
this is meant as a punishment, and man is gifted with a 
prescience to anticipate and feel it. Herod foresaw that 
the Jews would rejoice at his death, and he therefore 
instructed his sister Salome, as soon as he had expired, 
to slay a vast multitude of Jews collected from all parts, 
so that " all Judea and every house, though against their 
will, may be compelled to weep at my death." \ 

It is astonishing with what apathy the death even of 
great men is regarded. When Charles XII. was killed 



* Preachers have much to answer for in regard to funeral 
sermons. One cited as a substantial reason why he believed the 
deceased had departed to glory, the fact that his hymn-book was 
found marked in two places with pencil marks. 

f Euseb. i. 9. 



Sio DULCE DO MUM. 

by a cannon-shot, his chief engineer, who was with him 
at the time, looking for a moment at the disfigured king, 
said nothing else but, " There the play is ended ; let us 
go to supper?* 

It would indeed be no exaggeration to say that some- 
times a dog dies more beloved and regretted than a man 
endowed with a rational and immortal soul.! Witness 
the famous St. Bernard dog, called Barry, in the earlier 
part of the present century. He was instrumental in 
saving the lives of no fewer than forty human beings. 
His most memorable achievement was the rescue of a 
little boy, whose mother had been destroyed by an 
avalanche, and whom he induced to mount his back, and 
so carried him safe to the hospice. No wonder that the 
skin of this dog is preserved in the Museum at Bern. 

What a tribute it is to a good and useful man, when 
men are wishing and praying that he may be spared, 
when, with a kind of loving selfishness, they are wishing 
him to prolong his sojourn here, and trying to defer his 
departure to a better world. Happily there are not a 
few who have extorted from us the wish : " May you 
return late into heaven." J Perhaps by that wish we 
testify that our feeling is not disinterested, as also by the 
saying, " Our loss is his gain." What has he lost ? 



* " Histoire de Charles XII.," p. 334. 

f Certainly this was so among the ancient Egyptians. In what- 
ever house a cat died of a natural death, all the family shaved their 
eyebrows only ; but if a dog died, they shaved the whole body and 
the head. — Herod, ii. 66. Superstition did the same service then 
as is now performed by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty 
to Animals. 

t " Serus in ccelum redeas." — Hor. Car., i. 2. 



THE END. 513 

Has he lost life ? He has exchanged earthly life for 
heavenly life, a lesser for a greater good, a piece of 
painted glass for a lustrous diamond. 

Some of the ancients used to embalm their dead in 
honey. How much better to be embalmed in the grate- 
ful and loving esteem of friends, and, if possible, the 
regret of enemies ! * A nobody may have great funeral 
honours: many a baboon has been embalmed; but 
respect and regret men cannot buy for themselves or 
others. This is the glory of character, that it is beautiful 
still, even after the man is dead : just as it is with the 
plumage of birds — their rich colours adorn them after 
death, as much as they did in life. Some cause costly 
mausoleums and pedestals to be erected to their memory ; 
some leave endowments for religion and charity. What 
sovereign ever had erected to her memory a nobler 
monument than Mary, the wife of William of Orange ? 
The palace at Greenwich was converted into a re- 
treat for our brave seamen. That was her glorious 
cenotaph. 

All men ought thoroughly to understand and to bear 
in mind the weight and reverence given to dying words, 
so that they may then speak for religion and for God : — 

" They say, the tongues of dying men 
Enforce attention like deep harmony ; 
Where words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain, 
For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. 
He, that no more must say, is listened more 
Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose. 



* This was the rare good fortune of Statira, wife of Darius ; also 
the fortune of the Chevalier Bayard. 



512 DULCE DO MUM. 

More are men's ends mark'd than their life before : 
The setting sun, and music at the close 
(As the last taste of sweets is sweetest), last, 
Writ in remembrance, more than things long past." 

Jesus Christ has opened vistas into heaven ; and so we 
can discern that there are many mansions in our Father's 
house. We expect a universal gathering above, and to 
meet all the best that have ever lived in Europe, in Asia, 
in Africa, and in America. We hope to speak with them 
in the one celestial language, we hope to be joined with 
them in perfect unity, and to see eye to eye. We hope 
to escape from contention, from party spirit, from jealousy, 
and from exclusiveness, and to live in an atmosphere of 
love and affection and happiness. Then will the home 
on earth be absorbed by the home in heaven. 



THE END. 



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